It’s that time of year for resolutions, those things you decide you want to change or improve about yourself over the coming year.
1. Run more and farther.
I ran a good amount in 2017, about 750 km (give or take) over the year. I had a few minor over-use injuries which isn’t new to me. I ran a half marathon and had a 10km PB (personal best) race. I joined a running team (more about that in a future post) and met a lot of extraordinary people, many of whom are survivors in one way or another and who run to stay mentally strong. They are an incredibly inclusive group of people from all walks of life who all love to run. I feel lucky to have found them.
2. Yell less at my kids.
Being a parent is hard. Being a parent who doesn’t raise her voice is exhausting. I found myself in a cycle of yelling and saw its impact on my kids, my eldest in particular. Over the past 6 weeks both my husband and I have made a huge effort to lower our voices and I know with myself in particular, not yelling is hard to do. After asking my child to do something 3 times and not having it done, the only recourse I had, it seemed, was to raise my voice. It got their attention, but in a negative way. When I started hearing how they related to each other I realized they were emulating my behavior. We sat down with all the kids one day and acknowledged the tension in the house and told them that their mommy and daddy were going to do better. We asked them for help and it seems to be working. Oh, I still find myself yelling – I’m not a saint – but it is less than it was before. I’m a work in progress.
So, my husband was finally able to get back to the Christmas shopping now that all the kids are back in school and not sick anymore.
After multiple texts back and forth about what stuffies to get the kids, being unable to locate the one we know they all wanted at the Disney store, my brilliant receptionist spent all of 10 seconds on Google and located what we needed at the Showcase store.
Every year, without fail, my kids get sick around the holidays. Last year was the worst, at least for me. I ended up with what was probably a Norwalk virus on New Year’s Eve. We were with friends, without kids and I ended up in the guest bedroom for the rest of the night while my friends rang in the New Year.
This year, the little one (4 years old), developed a high fever (39.5C or 104.5F) that lasted the better part of 6 days. Eventually we took him to his doctor for a throat swab but it was negative for strep. Husband got a small dose of it for 2 days and I got a head cold that lasted 3 days. After a week, the boy’s fever broke and he went back to school, none the worse for wear.
Then his older brother (6.5 years old) came down with a fever. For another 6 days, my husband (the stay-at-home parent) had to deal with a sick kid who was home from school for a week.
Meanwhile, the eldest, was beside herself.
“How come the boys got to stay home from school?”
“It’s not fair!”
“When will I get sick? I want to stay home for a week too!”
Well, my dear; be careful what you wish for.
The same day the 6.5 year old’s fever broke, his older sister started shivering and complained of a headache. Honestly, I thought she was faking it. But then I felt her forehead.
Here we go again.
On the bright side, she should be just fine for Christmas. However, I have no idea how husband is going to finish our Christmas shopping with another sick kid at home.
The mental break is needed. I know it won’t be a particularly restful vacation – how is it possible with 3 children, the youngest of whom enjoys waking up at the crack of dawn? But it will be a break from the daily grindhouse, of that I am sure.
It also means a small break from my half-marathon training. Yes, that is going quite well, but the long runs will take a small backseat over the next two weeks or so. I will aim to run 3-4 times a week regardless, they just won’t be more than 10k. I worry about losing momentum but I think I have developed a good base which should carry me through.
I hope to return from the lake with a rested mind. My patients need it. I need it.
My dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer on his 82nd birthday. I expected it when his PSA test started increasing. He had a biopsy. I couldn’t attend the appointment for the results but asked my mom to make sure she found out his Gleason score. When she called me on his birthday, I heard it in her voice before she said the words.
It’s considered an intermediate- risk tumor. There is no metastasis. But given his advanced age and other co-morbidities, namely the Alzheimer’s, surgery is not recommended.
At his age, hormone therapy and radiation is recommended. Without treatment, he has perhaps 10 years. But that means the tumor will get larger, he’ll have more lower urinary tract symptoms of obstruction and likely bone pain from metastasis. Radiation is not easy. It involves daily trips to the hospital for weeks; 20-39 radiation visits. That’s 20-39 days that my mother has to drive him to and from hospital and pay exhorbitant fees in parking. My mom went through radiation treatment for her own breast cancer 15 years ago. She still remembers how hard that was on her. How difficult now will this be on my dad? He asks her several times a day what the next doctor’s appointment is for. Because he forgets. How difficult will this be for my mom to take him to the hospital day in and day out, in his already semi-frail and de-conditioned state? Is it cruel to put him through treatment? Is it cruel not to?
After meeting with his radiation oncologist and learning about a new treatment protocol involving only 5 weekly visits for radiation therapy, it looks like we will be embarking on treatment for my dad. He seems to understand the side effects of treatment and that it means weekly visits to the hospital. Of course, he’ll ask many times why he’s going but that is okay for now. Five weekly visits is going to be much easier for my mom. If and when it gets to be too much, we’ll make a decision to stop. But for now, he/we are going to fight this.
After a wonderful evening with my best friend and her partner, after eating prime rib and Yorkshire pudding and 3.5 bottles of wine among us, I woke up Sunday morning with a slight hangover and a tummy that was not happy about all the food. I hate to get graphic but I had a very upset tummy that morning, well actually, more like in the middle of the night, reminiscent of the stomach flu but thankfully no vomiting.
Remember, hubby and I have been on a healthy eating kick. We have small dinners of protein and veggies, no dessert and no booze. My system clearly didn’t appreciate the high fat and alcohol all at the same time. So Sunday morning came and I was like, “Long run? Not a chance.”
Instead we took the kids out and ended up at an aquarium store. A couple of hours later, we came home with a companion for our mama crayfish, a new aquarium for the two and a fire eel!!!!
Mama crayfish is the red/orange one. Royal blue crayfish is her new companion. The rainbow pebbles were chosen by our daughter.
We found the eel hiding under this rock a few hours after putting him in the tank. He is a bottom dweller and likes to hide. I think his little snout sticking out is super cute.
So it was around 5:30pm when we were done setting up the homes of our new family members and I decided it was now or never to run. So I suited up and forced myself to go out. I’m so glad I did. Though it was super slow, it felt great to be back out there pounding the pavement. I didn’t increase the distance too much, I had planned 6.7 km (10% increase from last week), but finished at 6.5 km due to general fatigue. Still, it’s in the books and I feel good about it overall.
2017 came in with a vengeance, for me at least. New Years Eve day started out with my three-year-old up chucking his applesauce then spiking a fever for most of the afternoon. While the older two kids were on their way to my in-laws, it was touch and go whether the baby would be staying home and changing our NYE plans or going to my mom’s for the night. Thankfully with some Advil and Gravol, he perked up enough to be sent there for the night.
As my husband and I prepared to go to our friend’s place for the evening, I had a fleeting thought of “What if I’m the next one to get hit with the stomach flu?” I forgot to mention that my eldest got hit with the stomach bug two days before.
The evening started out great. We brought all the fixings for a cheese fondue and it turned out great but shortly after starting to eat I felt the distinct uncomfortable rumblings in my lower stomach that signaled something wasn’t right. Sure enough, an hour before midnight I was hugging the porcelain god and wishing I were dead. The stomach virus that gently hit my children assaulted me with a vengeance. Minutes after midnight I was lying in an upstairs spare bedroom shivering with chills. So much for my new year’s eve plans.
Why is it that the holidays bring on such horrible illnesses? This is the second year in a row that my family has been plagued with a stomach virus over the holidays. I myself have had more of these bouts of illness in the last 5 years than I can remember for most of my life. Is it the kids? Are they the germ factories?
It’s downright awful.
Even after spending almost the entire day in bed yesterday and sleeping close to 14 hours I am still not 100% today and feel like I could be on the verge of intimacy with the porcelain gods again. As I write this I’m lying in bed with three children arguing for my attention.
What does a wife and mother to 3 children do when her husband (who stays home to look after the kids) is suddenly offered the opportunity of a lifetime but it means 2 years away from home while he tours Canada, the U.S., and Japan?
So many scenarios run through my head…
Of course we could make it work.
I can parent three children on my own and still work 30 hours a week.
My job is relatively flexbile, I could change my hours to accommodate school pick up and drop offs.
I can’t let him pass up this amazing opportunity.
What if he resents me in 10 years because he didn’t go? What if he resents me in 10 years because he did go?
I used to watch this television show called Fringe. The main premise of the show was parallel universes. I often wonder if there were a parallel universe or ten, what would it show me? How would my husband leaving to go on tour for 2 years affect my children’s development? How would it affect them if he didn’t go? Would it make me a more capable mother or would it make me worse?
I don’t think he’s going to go, but the exercise of thinking about it and wondering if I could handle running a household on my own really makes me realize how much I depend on him and need him. Sometimes I think I might take that for granted.
Further to my post earlier this week, that first batch of dough I tried to rise in the refrigerator did absolutely nothing.
I believe it had something to do with my starter. While there were loads of bubbles that I thought were yeast, the mixture wasn’t doubling. So I fed it some more and the next day magic happened. My starter doubled in size and I tried again.
This time though I didn’t rise the dough in the refrigerator. I instead left it in the oven all day and husband looked in on it. By the time I got home from work, the dough had risen to double and I made some bread.
Apart from it being slightly under-salted and having an extra crispy crust, it was damn fine bread!!