Suprise..He is alive. He made it. 4 consistent days of whining and moaning and crying. I thought and prayed..if this thing didnt kill him..I would. I really kept my patience with him. I am suprised. Really and truly suprised. I thought no one had noticed. I thought all my hard work and patience and understanding and love; I thought my jello and soup making skill had all gone unnoticed.
As we sat down for dinner and we were reminded that we needed to say grace, we grabbed hands and bowed our heads. He took the lead and started to say Grace "Dear Baby Jesus, little Baby Jesus we thank you for this food, we thank you for letting me feel better and so quickly and most of all thank you for Lea. Thank you for her patience and for caring for me while I was sick and for her not killing me. Amen"
AMEN! Yea, he was a big whiney complaining baby..but that is my big baby and I finally got my MAN back. Thank you Baby Jesus for that!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Men are babies
So my boyfriend is 31 and I think he is dying. Correction..HE thinks he is dying. He has strepped throat. It was a soar throat from Friday until Monday and then he finally went to the Dr (he works in a hospital) this morning and got some real medicine.
So start with last week when he starts to feel his throat hurt and is ache..he wont take anything for 2 days and then finally he just takes whatever. He is in pain and moaning, but he wont stop. He wants to do this and that, he stays up late and doesnt want to rest. Whatever. I had just lectured him that if he didnt slow down he would kill himself.
He moans so loud that I rush to him thinking that maybe its his last breath. Maybe today is the day I say goodbye to the love of my life. He is tossing and turning and I can hear him groaning so loudly he has the dog going nuts.
I hear over and over in this coarse voice..my throat hurts. I get text messages saying that his throat hurts..and thats it.
He is a bit grumpy..snaps a little but I know he doesnt mean it. He is in pain, I can see it as he tries to choke down his soup. I try to fluff his pillows and make him comfortable, I try to bring him his medicine on time and keep him hydrated. He is in pain, I mean his throat hurts, feel it, he tells me over and over (and when I do he yells " Oww")
I run out to the store and by potatoes, maybe that will be easier for him to swallow. I even buy jello. He looks up like a sad little puppy dog and faints a "thank you".
I know he is in pain, I also know that he is a 31 year old man, who has fought in combat four different times. He has weathered many a storm, but I think he has met his match. I get this urge to roll him up in a blankie and give him a pacifier and hold him in my arms. I want to sing to him and rock his precious little face. I want to tell him how much I love him and kiss his forehead over and over again, reminding him that he will get better..but I wont. Its hard enough right now not to laugh at him. His pain isnt funny, it really isnt. What is funny is how pathetic he looks and how pathetic he allows himself to look. I appreciate that he is secure and trust me enough to look so vulnerable but if we are being honest (and face it, that is the only way I know how to be) its kind of sad. I want my big burly strong man. I want my tough guy who would break a mans neck in one snap. Where is he? Oh he is there, he is lying on the couch, wearing his stinky pajamas, spitting into a Gatorade bottle because it hurts too bad to swallow. Yup, that is my big strong man..thats him there hiding under all that sad dying moaning and groaning.
He wont die. I promise him that, but I still dont think he believes me.
So start with last week when he starts to feel his throat hurt and is ache..he wont take anything for 2 days and then finally he just takes whatever. He is in pain and moaning, but he wont stop. He wants to do this and that, he stays up late and doesnt want to rest. Whatever. I had just lectured him that if he didnt slow down he would kill himself.
He moans so loud that I rush to him thinking that maybe its his last breath. Maybe today is the day I say goodbye to the love of my life. He is tossing and turning and I can hear him groaning so loudly he has the dog going nuts.
I hear over and over in this coarse voice..my throat hurts. I get text messages saying that his throat hurts..and thats it.
He is a bit grumpy..snaps a little but I know he doesnt mean it. He is in pain, I can see it as he tries to choke down his soup. I try to fluff his pillows and make him comfortable, I try to bring him his medicine on time and keep him hydrated. He is in pain, I mean his throat hurts, feel it, he tells me over and over (and when I do he yells " Oww")
I run out to the store and by potatoes, maybe that will be easier for him to swallow. I even buy jello. He looks up like a sad little puppy dog and faints a "thank you".
I know he is in pain, I also know that he is a 31 year old man, who has fought in combat four different times. He has weathered many a storm, but I think he has met his match. I get this urge to roll him up in a blankie and give him a pacifier and hold him in my arms. I want to sing to him and rock his precious little face. I want to tell him how much I love him and kiss his forehead over and over again, reminding him that he will get better..but I wont. Its hard enough right now not to laugh at him. His pain isnt funny, it really isnt. What is funny is how pathetic he looks and how pathetic he allows himself to look. I appreciate that he is secure and trust me enough to look so vulnerable but if we are being honest (and face it, that is the only way I know how to be) its kind of sad. I want my big burly strong man. I want my tough guy who would break a mans neck in one snap. Where is he? Oh he is there, he is lying on the couch, wearing his stinky pajamas, spitting into a Gatorade bottle because it hurts too bad to swallow. Yup, that is my big strong man..thats him there hiding under all that sad dying moaning and groaning.
He wont die. I promise him that, but I still dont think he believes me.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Someone pray for me..
So while in church this Sunday, the Father was up front speaking the good word. I was into it, I enjoy hearing what the old man has to say about the Big Man! I look down at my 4 year old that is quiet as a mouse..but I hear this voice..this childs voice. Talking. Loudly. This boy..maybe 6 is having a full fledged conversation with his mother. A mother who was talking back to him. Mind you, SHE was whispering, but the concept was lost on this little boy. I am astounded. I am distracted. I am trying so hard to pay attention to what is being sad. I cant. I look over again at this family sitting in front of me and I watch this conversation going on in front of me, I watch an old lady shoot them a dirty look and then move 2 pews in front, she left her purse and her husband and moved closer to the Priest to hear his words. I watch as familys all around stare down this lady.
I can see that we are all praying for the same thing..that this kid would shut up. That his mother would tell him to shut up or at least pull him out and explain to him that he isnt there to talk, he is there to listen.
I am Catholic..it is a written rule that you dont talk during church, has been since at least I was a little girl.
Now my blood is boiling..God cant hear our prayers over this little boy talking..I am so distracted by the fact that he just didnt stop. He didnt take a breath, how was this boy still sitting up without breathing..he must have gills..so now my thoughts turned from the beautiful lesson being taught to me this week..God is good, God is..oh how I wish this little boy would stop...finally when I cant take it any more, when I can feel the feeling of euphoria I get walking into Church leave my body, I cant hold it in anymore. My prayers for strength to not strangle the kid arent being answered. I pray..please God..Please if he cant stop talking..please give me the strenght to make it 30 more minutes without popping him in the back of the head.
God isnt answering..finally..I say as loudly and for as long as my deep breath would allow.."SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH".
I can only hear giggles now..I can see looks of amusement from people around me, but most of all I can finally hear the beautiful words of the Lord..he is telling us that we are to be genorous to our fellow man, that we are all brothers and sisters and children of God..AMEN. I agree. (oh crap..he started talking again. We had at least a moment of silence). Ok, so a normal person would have taken that as a sign to forgive the boy and his family..to let it pass because we are a loving and forgiving people, because we are all God's children..well..I am not normal..All I can think about is...we are brothers and sisters..if it was by brother running his mouth during Church, I would smack him upside his head..so if this kid and his mom are my bro and sis..it would be ok to smack them upside their head.....
This is now the time that we are to extend a hand and offer peace to those around us. My boyfriend reaches over first and kisses me on the check and ever so calmly (a rarity) says to me he loves me and looks me in my eyes with that look that says "relax", I know what he is thinking, because he knows what I am thinking. So I smile. I offer my hand to those around me (ok, behind me because lets face it, I have not reach the level of calmness I need to extend a hand to this rude mother). I look back and I put my head down and say another silent prayer, for this kid, for his mother and for me.
I walk out of there knowing that God probably isnt entirely ok with my attitude this morning, he probably is a little disappointed that I lost my cool and had the thoughts I had, but you know what, if today was the day He chose to talk to me, I didnt hear him over that little boy talking.
I can see that we are all praying for the same thing..that this kid would shut up. That his mother would tell him to shut up or at least pull him out and explain to him that he isnt there to talk, he is there to listen.
I am Catholic..it is a written rule that you dont talk during church, has been since at least I was a little girl.
Now my blood is boiling..God cant hear our prayers over this little boy talking..I am so distracted by the fact that he just didnt stop. He didnt take a breath, how was this boy still sitting up without breathing..he must have gills..so now my thoughts turned from the beautiful lesson being taught to me this week..God is good, God is..oh how I wish this little boy would stop...finally when I cant take it any more, when I can feel the feeling of euphoria I get walking into Church leave my body, I cant hold it in anymore. My prayers for strength to not strangle the kid arent being answered. I pray..please God..Please if he cant stop talking..please give me the strenght to make it 30 more minutes without popping him in the back of the head.
God isnt answering..finally..I say as loudly and for as long as my deep breath would allow.."SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH".
I can only hear giggles now..I can see looks of amusement from people around me, but most of all I can finally hear the beautiful words of the Lord..he is telling us that we are to be genorous to our fellow man, that we are all brothers and sisters and children of God..AMEN. I agree. (oh crap..he started talking again. We had at least a moment of silence). Ok, so a normal person would have taken that as a sign to forgive the boy and his family..to let it pass because we are a loving and forgiving people, because we are all God's children..well..I am not normal..All I can think about is...we are brothers and sisters..if it was by brother running his mouth during Church, I would smack him upside his head..so if this kid and his mom are my bro and sis..it would be ok to smack them upside their head.....
This is now the time that we are to extend a hand and offer peace to those around us. My boyfriend reaches over first and kisses me on the check and ever so calmly (a rarity) says to me he loves me and looks me in my eyes with that look that says "relax", I know what he is thinking, because he knows what I am thinking. So I smile. I offer my hand to those around me (ok, behind me because lets face it, I have not reach the level of calmness I need to extend a hand to this rude mother). I look back and I put my head down and say another silent prayer, for this kid, for his mother and for me.
I walk out of there knowing that God probably isnt entirely ok with my attitude this morning, he probably is a little disappointed that I lost my cool and had the thoughts I had, but you know what, if today was the day He chose to talk to me, I didnt hear him over that little boy talking.
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