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Stress & Sea-Monkey Sex…

Today is brought to you by the letter….”S”….

So tired.

Simply breathing.

What do you do when your child requires two days of emergency-room care, testing, results-waiting…and you’re in the throes of a deep flare.

And by “deep flare”, I mean the hounds-of-hell found themselves a chiquita demon and begat whateveritis that resides in my body. Right. Now.

My hair hurts.

True story.

He’s my son. I’m his mother. I protect him until my end of days. 

A call from school. Eldest son, currently struggling with substance abuse…temporarily out of the home for the protection of the smaller siblings who cry for him in his absence…has pain in his lower right quadrant…can I help bring him to the hospital?

Day-long care for a twinling who was ill with a cold, wait for daycare children to leave, scarf down a sandwich, off I go….Longest. Day. EVER.

Long 48 hours later…it turns out that the chronic inflammation he has in his appendix is unchanged from the last visit last November is *not* the cause of this present pain. Likely a pulled tendon/ligament/muscle in his hip.


It’s like zipping through the space-time continuum and slamming head-first into a TARDIS. (could happen)

Stress at Mach 9 to immediate relief. 2.2 days.

Why was this particular visit so stressful? Have I not coined the local children’s hospital our “second home”, having five children?

I haven’t seen my eldest son since the last week of December.

We talked. I forgot to drink enough fluids. He spoke of his fears and anxieties. I remembered to put snacks in a backpack to bring with me. The school called to check up on him. I needed sleep.

Define “it.”People often ask me, “How do you do it?”

Keep on keepin’ on?

Survival. At the best of times, it is simply the nature of the chaos of my reality. I simply do not have any other choice.

How do I make sure I don’t overstress myself?

I’m learning.

Breathing. True, deep breathing. The kind that acts like a wave…filling up my lungs, expanding my entire abdomen and back again. Significant, immediate anxiety-quencher.

Fluid. Essential for stress-management. Dehydration is *not* an option. It helps lessen muscular burn and fatigue…keeps tissue cells lubed up for somewhat proper function (somewhat, because my body is in constant snafu).

Cutting the cord. I am not responsible for the problems of the world. It will carry on with or without me. PRIORITIZE. Stop personalizing the problems of everyone else. For example, the logistics of having a daycare and young children who needed to get off the bus whilst one is at hospital? He’s 17 years old. I can leave. He can survive without his mother. (I totally had my mother come to stay with him…) But, worst case scenario…he is legally capable of being there on his own…receiving instruction…answering questions.

Find your #gladitude. Times like this call for the fact that I have a car of my own. To get where I am required. #gladitude

Mental busy-ship. I may or may not have the tendency to “over-think.” This is dangerous. It can lead to a downward spiral of depression and sadness. I did our taxes. I like taxes. I like structure and math and problem-solving. I play silly games on FB. I have a Sudoku booklet. I Google “How long does it take for sea-monkeys to mate?”

*shifty eyes*


Okay, in my defence, I was concerned. The sea-monkeys we got for the gingers have grown to the point of reproduction, and the chickie with the egg-sac has been…. uh…. “attached”…literally…to her mate for 3 days. I truly was concerned. Do I interrupt? Is this…normal? Who the hell has automatic knowledge of all things brine shrimp?!?

Apparently, not only is it normal, but a hell of a lot of people have an automatic knowledge of all things brine shrimp.

There are blogs.

There are forums.

I can sure as shit tell you…for those seemingly wasted minutes on the interwebs looking up sea-monkey sex…I didn’t think of a single, stressful thing.

True story.

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