Negativity

upsets me. I don't like being negative, I don't like feeling negative, and I don't like hearing other people constantly be negative. Which is why times like this are so hard for me, because the day really didn't have a lot of "good" things in it. We are still all sick, I woke up convinced I had inhaled the contents of Gilette's factory, and we are all sleep deprived, coughing, fevers, and general malaise. We're all sick. Simple.

So food is an issue. It hurts to eat some things. So you don't, you eat other things. But then you don't know what you want, or you know what you want but you are two and it doesn't matter how many times you repeat it and how loud this repetition gets (think Americans in Europe) you still aren't understood, so you have to go without what would possibly be the one thing that would make you feel better. Or not. I might just be reading into things.

Today I am feeling very, what's the word, um, defeated I think is the correct word. My whole body aches, it hurts to swallow, breathe, blink, think, move, all that. And the kids still need me so I have to keep trucking on. And I'm getting angry at them for being sick, because I'm sick too and nobody is looking after me. It isn't fair (mentally chucking a tantrum throwing self on ground, stomping fists and feet and screaming).

Today is one of those days when you think why the hell did I choose to have three children under three, then chastise yourself brutally for even thinking that because there is no way in hell you'd be without any of your children, so you feel worse, and then you get angry, and you see it becomes a vicious circle.

So I shall leave it there. All that has vomited from my fingers onto this virtual page has been negative and I am not happy about it. I hate it in fact. It is not who I am. But I'm feeling so very very worn down and am finding it hard to muster the me out of the quagmire.

Here's hoping tonight somehow resembles a night in a house and not cough o'clock at the local hospital.

I bid you adieu and trust that tomorrow is another day. And inevitably it will be.

Today was without a doubt

the longest day in history. I can not explain why it went so slowly, but it did. All the kids were sick, which I knew was coming, Lexi having been struck down the earliest, and the others were bound to follow, particularly considering at how close quarters they all are, giving each other cuddles and kisses all the time, and drinking from each others water bottles and cups and whatnot. So I really wasn't surprised when last night sucked a bit and then this morning it seemed as though mucous had taken up residence and bred overnight, so pyjama day it was, and slothing was in high demand.

I have a philosophy when the kids are sick. Basically they can pretty well have whatever they want (within reason of course) because they just aren't feeling well and I remember what it feels like to feel sick and sometimes you just want to have a dry biscuit or a juice or a piece of apple with a milkshake chaser.

I'm pretty tired. I'm not really sleeping all that much, and when I do it is interrupted, as is this post, by mini people coughing. Or wriggling. Or moving. Or just wanting a cuddle. And that's where my job comes in.

Most people that don't have kids don't understand that of all the jobs there are in the world without a doubt the most difficult of all jobs is that of the stay at home mum. No other job are you on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for around 18 years. No other job are you expected to drop everything to attend to one of your charges. No other job do you work under these conditions purely for the love of it. I have worked night shift. I have worked tough jobs that are unrelenting and unrewarding. But I have never before worked as hard as I have worked in these last three years looking after my babies.

I'm anticipating going back into the workforce next year. In preparation for this the girls have started daycare 2 days a week. That is not the only reason either, it's due to the enormous amount of study required for my course, and I'm finding it difficult to function on next to no sleep. And let me tell you, essays don't flow so easily when you are sleep deprived, which then leads to frustration which leads to inability to sleep even though your body is literally shagged beyond belief from the day's activities and all you wish for is some shut eye and to turn off for even five minutes.

But I digress. Being a mum is not easy. And it is made more difficult every time your child coughs. Or cries. Or is miserable. Because you want to make it better, and sometimes you just can't.

And I can't. Threefold. And it is torture. And mums will often say they would rather be ill themselves than see their children go through it, and I have also said this. And it has happened, because I can feel my eyes getting that droopiness that sickness brings, and I have the tickle that started at the back of my throat and has now spread to a mat of discomfort, and I know I'm getting sick too. I just want to sleep. I really really just want to sleep. And I can't. I probably could if I lay down, but lying down just means I Have to get up again, and at least if I stay semi-upright when I need to get back up again it isn't so hard to do, whereas if I lie down and begin to relax it hurts more, if that makes sense.

To be honest with you I have absolutely no idea what I have just written. Lexi is coughing and I am anticipating her waking within a matter of seconds, upset, wanting me to help but not wanting me to help because she feels yuck and just wants to stop feeling yuck. Agh. Such a cruel world when babies get sick.

And so I go, to watch whatever the hell I have on the television, which has been on for some 45 minutes now and I seriously could not tell you what it is, and hope that the babies start to settle and that maybe, just maybe, I might grab a little shut eye myself. I can hope.

Coughing

went on all night last night. I'm not so happy about it, and I'm tipping Lexi wasn't either. After the horrendous sleep we had I knew I had to take her to the doctor, particularly after having seen her throat yesterday and today, and seeing what I thought were enormous tonsils. As it turns out it was not tonsils I saw (so I am told) but just her throat, plain and simple, swollen to all buggery.

We haven't been here long enough to have organised a GP. So I phoned a few places and was told they were booked out, so had to chance it at the walk in clinic. We arrived at 11.15am. If I told you what time we were eventually seen you would be amazed. An hour later? Two? Three? And then some. Ridiculous. One person phoned after I had been there 2 1/2 hours and was told there were 59 people in the queue. Absolutely ludicrous.

So we shan't be going there again. Not unless there is absolutely no other option, and if there is no other option I'm tipping we'll go to the hospital so yes that shall be the last I see of that place.

Today was results day. I'm happy to have a little blow on my own trumpet and say that of the three subjects I have studied so far in my masters degree, I have achieved three HD's. These are high distinctions, given when the marks are 80 and above. And do you know what? I bloody deserved those marks too!! I worked my ass off every single night, depriving myself of sleep and putting my all into it. Why did I work so hard? Because I finally discovered the area of law that makes me smile. I knew I would. And funnily enough, being that I'm fairly keen on this whole blogging thing, and I don't mind the odd flutter over facebook and the like, the area that interests me is internet law and electronic crime, as I do believe I have mentioned before.

So anyway, I was pretty pleased with myself. So tonight I'm having a wine, or possibly even a gin and tonic, and watching American Idol with said drink in hand, smiling to myself and also outwardly, contemplating the future and hoping that little miss Lexi has a better night tonight and that the coughing I can hear coming from Tabitha's room is caused by her swallowing the wrong way. Otherwise things are gonna get reeeeally interesting.

Tonsils

were put there for a reason. They basically cop the flack when you get sick and make sure the infection doesn't go down any further. Lexi has had tonsillitis more times than I care to remember. On one particular occasion her temperature was above 40 and yes, we were at the hospital, I had gone there the day before when it hit 39.6 only to be sent home to try and get a sample. Very easy from a child that isn't toilet trained. Not. Anyway, we got one but it wasn't a great one, and when her temperature hit 40.1 at home the next day (and I didn't even wait for it to beep, as soon as it hit 40 that was enough for me) we were out the door and straight to emergency, and straight through. And they dosed her up with gastrolyte icypoles because she hadn't been peeing which was also a bad sign. Anyway, what I was trying to get across is that she has had tonsillitis before. I don't know if she ever actually fully got RID of the tonsillitis, because looking down her throat they were always kind of large looking, but then again I don't know what tonsils are supposed to look like.

Tomorrow we are going to try and find a doctor. Actually I might do the googling tonight and then come business time tomorrow I can just ring up straight away. I'm thinking if I say "I'm a mother of 3 under 3, my oldest has a fever and a cough and her tonsils are huge, my middle child is teething and has been for months and my youngest is going through a growth spurt and is feeding every 1.5 to 2 hours and I haven't slept more than a few hours a night for nearly three weeks if I don't get her seen soon I'm going to go insane" then they may let us waive the usual "new patient" waiting times that you often get and see us straight away.

Even when she is sick though, she is still wonderful. I crawled up on to the bed with her to explain to her that I had to take her temperature and give her some medicine and she looked at me through tired glassy eyes and said "ok mummy" with tears streaming down her face and her cheeks bright red from coughing and heat and all sorts of things, and as I told her that she was the best little girl in the world and I loved her more than anything she blew me a kiss. And I just about cried.

I'm so so tired. I won't be sleeping again tonight. I just hope my baby feels better. It is killing me that she is sick.

Tabitha is teething too. Again. And Angus is still feeding like a bastard.

If there is no rest for the wicked I must be pure evil.

Still, I still wouldn't have it any other way, for to have it any other way would mean that I may not have my beautiful babies, my precious little ones, those miniature folks who say the most magical little things, they who make you smile from looking at the twinkle in their eyes, those whose laughter is more intoxicating than the finest wine, and whose mere presence could melt the coldest of hearts.

I just love my babies. And much as this is part of life and there will be more sickness in the future, I just wish I could take away their pain. Cos that's just what we mums do, that's what we mums want. Our purpose in life is to protect our children as much as we can. But we must also realise that protection has limits. We can only do what we can do. And we can not 'protect' them from life. For they will grow. They will scrape their knees again. They will have a cold again. And heaven forbid they will have accidents. And as they grow older they may shy away from our affection, they may tell us not to worry so much. But every mother knows that their children will always be their babies, no matter how old, and asking us not to worry is like asking the sun not to rise, like asking the birds not to sing, like asking fish not to swim.

Worry we will. But, not now but inevitably in the future, we must allow our children to have things happen to them, bad, good, indifferent, otherwise. For that is life. Life is a collection of experiences. To wish that nothing ever happened to your child is to wish them a dull and uneventful life. I choose then to wish my children a happy and healthy life and that they are able to handle all the obstacles put in front of them. And that they feel they can come to me for help if they need it.

I'm getting ahead of myself. For now I will just be content for my little Lexi to breathe a little easier and make it through the night with at least a little sleep. And some for me too.

This Saturday coming

the three mini ones and myself are going to be a part of the Relay for Life , a fabulous effort to raise money for cancer research.

I personally have had friends and family members who have fought battles with cancer, some of whom have survived, some who have not.

If you are able, clicking on the link will allow you to donate to this fabulous cause.

If not, please support the Relay and the efforts of the Cancer Council by attending one of the Relays, or being a part of Daffodil Day or any of the other superb fundraising efforts undertaken by the Cancer Council.

My almost completely sleepless night last night was brought into perspective when I received an email from the organisers of the Relay in which we are taking part and the realisation that there are people out there fighting for their lives. And here I am complaining that I need sleep.

Perspective.

I feel like a schmuck.

For the last five nights I have been waking DD1 half an hour before she has her usual night terrors, in the hope of "breaking the cycle" and meaning she doesn't have the night terrors. For the most part it has been working, in that when she does wake it is usually quite a bit later, and she is only distressed for a very short time.

Tonight I forgot. And she had a shocker. A real shocker. And she is still unsettled. And I feel horrid.

Such a little thing, to just wake her for a tiny moment, and I couldn't remember to do it. Yes, I was feeding Angus so was a little preoccupied, but it's a pretty important thing and I can't believe I forgot.

And so I'm just gonna sit here and beat myself up about it for a bit because I feel like a crap mum and hate that my actions (or rather inactions) made my baby suffer.

If ever

you decide that taking your three young children to Watergardens with your mother is a good idea give yourself a firm smack upside the head. It is not.

I had never been to Watergardens before, so I dutifully googled where it was, got a vague idea on the map and off we set. We turned at a roundabout and were on the way, the wrong way, but the way nonetheless. So then I felt perhaps we were actually headed towards nowhere so did a uturn and got on to the highway, taking the next exit, which then made me realise that was not the correct exit, but the road that we had first been on was in fact the correct road, and after a 15 minute detour we ended up back on that road, about 1km further down than we had previously been.

Upon arrival at Watergardens I unloaded the kids, after parking spot stalking some poor lady with a pram, because there were simply no parking spots. How a carpark that size could have no available spots is beyond me. We were lucky enough to get a pram park too, bit wider, closer to the entrance, good work. It was lucky. It was very lucky. Shorter distance to travel on the eventful way out.

So we got lunch first. Nothing spesh, subway, but it was nice. Have to make sure the girls realise that food courts sell things other than chips now don't we? I then made the cardinal error of putting them on one of those little carousel rides. They had a ball. So why was it an error? Because I made them get off. Actually Tabitha was quite glad to get off, she had even attempted to get off while it was still moving, however Lexi was not impressed. She wanted another ride. Loudly. And then I became one of those mothers who people look at when their child is going off their heads saying oh that child must be so spoilt to behave like that and oh how awful. Well sorry to break it to you world but that simply isn't the case. She carried on like that because she is 2 and in her world that is the most tragic injustice that could ever occur - her not being allowed to have another ride on the carousel.

Tabitha decided that she would throw herself onto the ground too. Just for good measure. So I had Lexi screaming "nooooooooooooooooooo" at the top of her lungs and Tabitha rolling around on the floor in her little pink tracksuit. I might add that Angus was awake, looking suitably unimpressed, with bottom lip trembling, looking up at me from the pram.

So how did I solve this problem? Bribery? Smacking? No. I picked her up and whispered in a very firm tone that she was embarrassing mummy and if she behaved this way after everything good she got she would never get anything good. See, ending it there would probably have been the good mummy way of doing it. However it did not end there because Lexi kept screaming. So I, mum of the year, told her that if she didn't be quiet I would leave her there. Oops. Probably not the best thing to say. She did stop crying though........

Well by this stage Angus had chimed in too and was giving Lexi a lung for her money, sorry a run for her money. So mum sat and fed him and I took the girls into Target to have a look around to see what they had. I was seeking furniture (storage in particular), and a whole list of things I had prepared earlier. Unfortunately I have no idea where that list finished up and as it turned out we exited Target 10 minutes later with three bags of lollies. While in Target I realised that Lexi loves the toy department. I also realised that Tabitha is a lot faster than she looks. And I also realised that bribery does work. Thus the exiting with three bags of lollies. Why three? I had to bribe myself as well.

So I thought yep that'll do I can't do much more, it was probably a bad idea in the first place. But we trucked on in search of a supermarket trolley, something I had sought in the first place but was unable to find. And I spotted one. The holy grail. Tabitha threw herself onto the ground (for perhaps the fiftieth time) as I grabbed it. Might I add that she is not screaming as she throws herself down, she is actually on occasion laughing. She just thinks it is hilarious that I have to pick her up. Yep. Loving it. Anyway, got the trolley, popped Tabitha in the front seaty part and Lexi got to sit in the trolley, we went in, got the stuff, came out and made a beeline for the car.

When I saw the car I can't tell you the relief I felt. What was the funniest thing was that within the first five minutes of being in the mall we were doing brilliantly. Lexi was helping push the pram, I was pushing the pram with one hand and with the other hand I held Tabitha who was walking alongside like a good girl. I even turned to mum and said that people would be looking at us thinking ah how lovely and they are such good kids. An hour or so later when things had become distinctively pear shaped I commented that for that five minutes I felt on top of the world, and I won't take back what I said, but I would look back from the carnage that was our shopping trip to the commencement of said shopping trip and realise that for a brief moment it was perfect. And that's enough.

And it's now 7.03pm and all the kids are in bed. Not asleep, but relaxed enough that they'll be catching zeds soon enough. I have managed to scrape the house into some semblance of organisation in preparation for buzzing off to "school" for the girls in the morning, the arrival of Mr Foxtel (thank god because if I see repeats of Play School one more time I'm going to go postal) and Mr Maintenance Man to look at some stuff around the house.

Me, I think I'll make a start on getting the books I need for uni. Get on top of things a bit. For now though I might surf the extensive four channels I currently get and see if I can find something to watch. If not, I'll surf the net a bit then hit the hay myself. Big day. But still, we did it. Won't do it again, have no desire to, but we did it once. And as I have said before, that's enough.