Family… ‘Nuff Said

It’s the 3rd day of December, and I’m already far, far behind. The lights we put up for Halloween are still up. My Christmas decorations for the exterior are well behind, but the days are getting harder instead of easier.

At least I am on medication and recovering now. 🙂

I came down with what I thought was my kids’ cold/flu. I didn’t think much of it. Two days after my system handed me a “Fuck you. I need a rest,” my period showed up. And it was also on that same week my brother called me on a Tuesday telling me that he needed to get to the hospital because of an attack.

Not a physical one. A medical one. I posted something in regards to the aftermath of this particular incident. You can find it HERE if interested.

The cough didn’t go away. In fact, it got worse, got better, got worse, started feeling asthmatic, then I couldn’t sleep, and Hubby was getting overwhelmingly concerned. I promised him I would see a doctor, but with the children tag-teaming me on the “Home Sick” front, I had to deal with my parents, my brother’s move, and Thanksgiving’s crazy people outside.

I wasn’t a happy Kitty Cat, let me tell you that. XD

I know, I know, gotta take care of myself first. I had a doctor I went to before, but their appointments are like weeks of waiting, so I had to find a new Primary Care Giver for me. I did some research, went through the Umbrella company whose branch I take my children to for pediatric care, and called to make an appointment for Tuesday (yesterday).

I have bronchitis. Prescription Azithromycin (antibiotics) and Prednisone (allergy) for 5 days, supposedly is effective for 10 days… hopefully it’ll clear things up. If not, it’s an increased dose and possibly an inhaler. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that, but since this is part of the asthma journey I’ve started some posts on, I’ll keep blogging if any changes happen. I’m hoping it could be a good reference for some people.

I’m just trying to get over this exhaustion first. 🙂

My biggest struggle right now is scheduling. With the added responsibility of my brother’s medical condition – which I cannot elaborate more unless I have his permission, and I don’t really care to ask for that since I don’t need family dropping by this particular blog – it has been more than draining.

It’s Wednesday. I felt like I’ve done two 18-hour manual labor shifts in the last two days. I think if the children and I weren’t sick, I wouldn’t be feeling this way, but I am, so it has been incredibly taxing.

I didn’t know what time my brother’s classes are. He tells me he’s gone until 9pm, doesn’t usually get home until 11pm, and my parents roped me into making dinners for him.

Bear with me. This part carries a slight rant warning.

I am on the go between the hours of 6am to about 3pm – taking Aiden to school, getting errands done, treat myself to writing time 2-3 times a week, and if the children are sick, then I have to plan their lunches, activities, medication, doctor’s appointments, and make meals as well. Because they’re not usually sick together and tag-team, one cold could easily spin off into 3 weeks worth of: Son got Daughter sick. Daughter gets Son sick. Both get Mommy sick.

Hopefully everybody recovers at the end of that. Stars aren’t usually quite in alignment.

It’s not a stranger to this house to find us all down for about 6 weeks with the tag-teaming because with ear infections, asthma like symptoms, fever, whether it’s a cold or something more serious suddenly gets difficult to judge.

So when my afternoon to bedtime looks something like this:

3pm-4:30pm: Start dinner preparations while constantly running for the door to make sure I don’t miss the bus. Son gets home around 3:40pm. Daughter gets home at 4pm. Then it’s round of “What snacks would you like?” and breaking up fights because both of them have been at school all day and both want to play with the exact same toy at the exact same time.

4:30-5:30pm: Dinner gets made and served. Kitchen clean up Part 1.

6:00pm: Dinner is finished and table cleared. I get the kids in the shower.

6:30pm: Shower done. Dishes time & Kitchen Clean up Part 2. Somewhere between 6:30pm and 7:30pm, Hubby and I try to fit in one TV episode. Usually my pick of the evening.

7:30pm: Aiden sits down for homework time. Catelyn fights to do homework too. Pre-K doesn’t have homework.

8:00pm: A story, teeth brushing, and it’s bedtime. 3 days out of the week, this is where the insomniac me catches up on sleep.

9:00pm: My bedtime.

If you would kindly notice, there is no time in there for much of anything else personally, much less somebody else.

Now, my schedule is really tight. Due to my brother’s restricted diet, I have to make food for him separately. I can’t, say, make a sautéed veggie plate for us and just dump a couple of servings in a container for him. No, I have to prep his separately, with different ingredients. So if I was making 3 dishes for dinner per household, then it’s 6 different cooking efforts in one evening.

Then I have to package it up, get my kids showered, which now cuts into homework and reading time, while I run the meal over to my brother’s place so he’ll have something to eat. He can’t eat out, buy prepared food from outside… period.

Because this apartment he moved into didn’t come with a microwave, I had to make an emergency run to Walmart Monday night, on top of everything you just read up there, in the freezing rain, to buy a microwave for him and deliver it to his apartment.

He apparently only noticed that it’s there because he stubbed his toe on the box. There wasn’t a thanks on any level, as if it should’ve just been there. Then he actually asked me why I bought him a microwave. To which I answered:

Because there isn’t one in the apartment. Did you not notice this?

He replied:

I thought I did? Haven’t checked in detail.

*heads desk* That means I know more about his apartment than he does, and he’s the one living there. I’ve been by maybe twice. He has both life nearsightedness and tunnel vision. I’m just wondering how’d he managed to not walk off a tall building or a bridge yet.

So… the whole point of that is this. I’m struggling. I’m treading water for all I’m worth, but I’m drowning. I’m not the panic type. I learned to stop a long time ago and try to work through it. I am, however, the stress-the-hell-out type, and by gods am I perfecting this right now. I figured I’ll give it the rest of this week, and next week, because he’s going home around the 15th of this month, and then come 31st of December, he’ll be back with my parents in tow.

Then I get to teach my mother what the hell is going on with my brother’s diet.

And possibly get stuck with my brother for as long as he’s here.

I know this is incredibly selfish of me, but this is how I’m feeling right now:

I had to give up writing for 7 years. Finally getting my kids to school age and getting some time and mental space back in to write is the kind of reward one should have for sacrifices and “good job well dones.” Now with this dropped in my life that threatens the very time I am using to write…

… it makes my head hurt. It makes me want to make blog posts of complaints instead of stories. Complaints don’t help me. Stories do. So… that’s where the taxation comes in. I have to clear my head (complaints) to write. I only have time for one.

It’s a huge blow. It really is.

I do have more to type up here… but I’m out of time. I want to get Aiden’s homework out of the way since he’s home again today, and keeping my eye out for AF Henley’s final blog tour destination as it ends today; then, it’s errands with my little man while I ponder what to make my brother tonight.

Encouragement, my friends, is truly appreciated if you can spare a moment to do so.

Much ❤

Wynter, out.


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