Digging the Hole Deeper

When last we left our intrepid blogger (uh, me), we were cuddling with a sick little girl after a night of vomiting. Sunday she refused to eat (I mean, you would too if you threw up 7 times), but by Monday she was doing better. Unfortunately, having vomit in your hair/down your neck/in your shirt and cleaning up very loose stool means by Monday night, you are vomiting. 5 times.

Question 1: Why is the vomiting always at night?

Question 2: How could I not beat a 4 1/2 year old in the throw up count. I mean, really! I have, like, 34 years of experience on her!

Insight 1: Tomato soup burns on the way back up. Really burns.

Insight 2: I like to talk about vomit a lot.

So, yeah, I got sick Monday night (Labor Day). I missed school on Tuesday, but felt better as the week wore on. Until, that is, I got sick on Friday with a coldish thing. Flat on my back exhausted all weekend. Needless to say, I fell very far behind on reading and homework, which is very bad because this is the worst semester ever. Wait, we need all caps. WORST SEMESTER EVER. We have a lot of papers to write, journal articles to decifer, and teachers to decrypt. I’m still trying to catch up and it feels like I’m getting nowhere. I’ve been breathing very deeply just to prevent myself from screaming. Or crying. I can totally see myself crying.

Fortunately, this week a lab and class are both canceled as is a class on Monday. I think I’ll be able to dig myself out of this project hole of doom. If not, I may start hyperventilating from all this deep breathing.

I’m so tired…

Well, this week started off with a bang. Or should I say, yawn? Sunday night, the night before my fall semester, I got about 2 hours of sleep, maybe 3. My brain was awake and my knee hurt. By 2am I decided to attempt sleeping again, which is about the same time my daughter started having issues. Attend to that and I’m awake again. Thursday night, same issue minus the daughter–awake until 2–and I was running on about 4 hours sleep.

Friday, I met the Husband, OP, and friends at the campsite that would be our home for the weekend. OP had a blast. On Saturday, she went to bed relatively easily, a rare feet when camping. I lay on the sleeping bag trying to sleep when I heard OP wimpering. “Oh crap,” I thought, “Is she having a nightmare?.” I whispered, “OP, are you okay?” then thought, “Wait, this whimpering sounds familiar. Is she about to….OH CRAP!!!!” Vomit. All over. I grabbed her to, I don’t know, catch the vomit or get her out of the tent. I wasn’t really thinking.

Covered, in green beans and corn bread, I got her out of the tent and started heading blindly and barefoot to the bathroom a few yards away. Our friends were in a camper and had gone to bed, so I figured we were on our own. Once I got to the bathroom, I realized there were no paper towels. I turned back to the campsite to get towels or something.

Fortunately, at that point our friends were up and helping the Husband clean. I went in to use their shower to traumatize my poor baby by washing off the vomit. She went to watch a movie in our friends’ camper and I went out to help the Husband clean the tent.

As we cleaned, OP threw up again (fortunately into a bowl). We assessed the damage and realized half of everything was covered and it was time to go home where we had access to more supplies. Did I mention it was midnight at this point and about 30 minutes into OP being sick and throwing up twice.

We cleaned and packed what we could. I went for a midnight shower to get the green beans out of my hair and we went home.

Vomit number 3 happened as we took OP out to the car. Numbers 4, 5, and 6 on the 45-ish minute ride home. The final time, number 7, was about an hour after OP fell asleep. Then, yet another hour later she came in crying with a potty accident. A yucky potty accident. Thank goodness she was in pull-ups.

OP finally slept several hours and spent Sunday on the couch refusing to eat. She had only one slice of cinnamon toast all day because, “I don’t want to eat slowly.” Then she fell asleep at the laundromat at 5:00 and woke up this morning at 6. Poor thing.

We think it was most likely food poisoning, but we’re not completely sure of the source. Ironically, we talked briefly about food poisoning at dinner. Today, OP is doing pretty well, but I think it will be another lazy day for her. I cannot thank our friends enough for helping us clean and taking care of OP before we went home. The Husband was also amazing–doing the bulk of the clean up while trying not to vomit himself. And me? I’m tired, but I’m glad it’s over and she’s doing much better. If nothing else, it’s a camping trip we will remember and maybe we’ll be able to laugh about it next year.

Time flies

I have less than two weeks before classes start. Books are ordered, schedule is set, 2014-2015 student planner bought, and backpack is packed. I’m taking 4 classes (13 credits) next semester and 5 classes (17 credits) in the spring. I think it sounds worse than it is. The fall semester contains the “TRIUMVIRATE OF EVIL” (evil, evil, evil)–three classes that are crazy hard–and a throwaway class. At least, it’s a throwaway according to my adviser. I think she has a very broad definition of “throwaway class.” Of the three, I’m not worried about macronutrients (cue me sobbing at how hard the class is in November). I took micronutrients last semester with the same professor and I now understand his teaching style. Plus it’s metabolism and I lurv metabolism. That makes me a geek.

I don’t feel like I’ve gotten anything done this summer, despite having weeks of nothing but time. I think I get distracted more than I realize and everything else takes longer than I expect. I did, however, get the nerve up to sell a knitting pattern. It’s only been a week, but so far no complaints from buyers and no angry mob.

Are you still awake? This is quite boring.

OP starts kindergarten in the fall! That’s like 3 weeks away! I’m…I don’t know how I feel. She’s starting a year early, because she just missed the cut off date and is ready to go. I think she’d be bored doing another year of pre-K, but I worry about her being the youngest. Of course I would worry about her being the oldest, the middle, and everything in between. I just worry. She’s excited, though. She gets to ride the bus. Twice! In her world, that is the best thing ever!

Unfortunately, she’s growing too fast. Not psychologically or metaphorically. She grew 2 inches in about 2 months. Pants that I just bought for her now come up to her knees and every shirt seems to be a belly shirt! I’m trying to get her to try on everything in her drawers just so I can figure out what we need. I am terrible at buying clothes for her. I end up getting things too big, because she’ll grow into them! Except she doesn’t. Of if she does, she’s chewed on the shirt collar so it is hanging down to her bellybutton. Can’t kids just be naked? It would make my life a little easier.

“I will keep wearing my maxi dress, even if it reaches my armpits. You can’t take my maxi from me!!”

FO: Maluka

Pattern: Maluka by Bea Schmidt
Yarn: Knit Picks Gloss Fingering
Needles: US 6

It’s FO Friday! I’m finally posting about Maluka after completing it in March 2013.

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Yeah, I am so far behind on these. You should see my Ravelry project page. Grossly out of date.

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I really liked the pattern–it was easy, understandable, and fun–and while I loved the final product, I felt it came out too small. I don’t  know if it’s small because I didn’t meet gauge (I never used it), I didn’t understanding the construction, or it was the right size, but I need it bigger.

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I tried wearing it different ways, but I couldn’t make it work for me.

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I even tried dressing like a babushka.

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Fortunately, my daughter decided she wanted it, and it fit perfectly. Since it did, I let her keep it.

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I will definitely make this one again, but a little bigger.

“I never let my schooling get in the way of my education.” — Mark Twain

I started writing a post all about my knee, and then deleted it. I’m done focusing on the negative. Instead, I want to focus on the positive.

I now have a graduate assistantship in the nutrition department in my school. I get to work for a professor doing grunt work, but I think it will be a good opportunity. Plus it will help pay for school.

I’ve had a lot of opportunities this summer. They are not paid, but they are great experiences and will be good on the resume. I’ve been able to do grunt work in a research project, write for a nutrition blog, and work at a farmers’ market. Although, I had to drop my farmers’ market gig, because of my knee. BUT I’M BEING POSITIVE.

My daughter is entering kindergarten in September, and is excited to ride the bus.

I’m off for the rest of the summer. I’ve cleaned some of my desk, some of the refridgerator, and most of the house.

I’m working on a hand warmer pattern that, if I get the courage, I will try to sell. And, I have beautiful yarn.

Life is beautiful.

The two most amazing people I know.

The two most amazing people I know.

The End is Nigh

Classes are over for the semester and finals are all that is left. Yay! I will be so excited to be done with classes. At least done for a week. Then I have 6 weeks of microbiology, but THEN I have the rest of the summer off. I’ve been looking for a nutrition-related job to fill the hours, but I may end up just doing volunteer work, cleaning, knitting, spinning, reading… Okay, just knitting, spinning, and reading. Cleaning can suck it.

OP has had her first grounding of a sort. She is very…particular about food. Picky? Stubborn? She likes to go to her restaurants and eat her food at home. Every night is a meltdown because how dare I put ziti on her plate, because she doesn’t like it because it’s not spaghetti and the 80 million other times I served ziti she had a meltdown before eating until she finally broke down and ate it and realized it was good and she did like it, but really she just wants hot dogs like she wanted hot dogs last night. Why can’t we giver her hot dogs for dinner every night? Life is horrible!!! You don’t understand me!!! I’m running away!!!! You’re the worst parents ever!!!!

We’ve tried having her pick out dinner or make it, like all the experts and my nutrition experts suggest, and she’s really into the process, but refuses to eat it. Unless it’s pancakes or hot dogs.

On Sunday, we had to pick a restaurant for dinner and she wanted “Old McDonalds” (that’s what she calls it) because some toy is there (thanks, marketing). We didn’t go to Old McDonalds. Instead we went to a restaurant where there were rocks outside perfect for kicking at Daddy in her angst. Needless to say, she’s been punished and can’t go to any of her restaurants for two weeks.

She’s taking it pretty well, and we’re using it as a teaching (torture?) tool. We went to a Thai restaurant one night and an Indian restaurant the other night. We’ve gone before, usually with a meltdown in tow (especially with Indian), but this time she was much more open and even happily tried new foods. Without a meltdown! And liked them! We made a big deal about how proud we were of her trying new things and all that crap, and I’m hoping this is a new trend that continues after the punishment is over, because I would love to not have a meltdown with every meal that doesn’t meet her specifications.

And the winner is…

OP* ran her very first 1 mile race. At 4 years old, she was one of the youngest, but there were a couple other 4 year olds there. Originally, we signed her up for the 200m version, but she refused. She wanted to do the long one. She’s her daddy.

I’m doomed….

I ran the race with her. One, because we weren’t sure if she’d make it back in time for Daddy’s race and he didn’t want to miss it. Two, because she asked and I’m a sucker.

We started at the word go and she quickly sped to last place. Sort of shambled, really. Shambled with effort. Then we started to lose the pack. By about 1/4 mile in she became upset because she was going to be last. Fortunately, at that point, we passed a boy about her age who had decided he was done with the race. As we ran and walked, I told her that it didn’t matter if she was last, because being last meant that she still did it and didn’t give up. I pointed out that she was beating that little boy because he gave up.

She stayed last. Apparently, she has my running DNA. According to results, she was over 2 minutes behind the person in front of her (although she crossed just behind a little girl who was either a ninja and sneaked over the timer line or cheated). Fortunately it didn’t matter to her. She had done it by herself, step after step without anyone carrying her. And that is what is important. Sometimes, we need to be reminded of that.

*For those new to the blog, OP stands for Optimus Prime which is what we called our daughter in the womb.