Henry And Jaxon Update


Well, let’s see—what’s up with me…on the boys—they are still with me, CYS is still showing up—Mr. Anderson’s post on my blog prompted three concerned (or vicious) people to call them on behalf of the them.  They come in, look around, Henry usually does some goofy, show-offy headstands on the couch, then they tell me that they have better things to do and that they’re sorry.  I am too.  What a culture.  Where people make up stories about other people just to make their already hard lives harder.  And that makes them what—happy?

That’s sick.

Anyway, right now the boys are gleefully chasing each other from room to room upstairs, screeching and yelling all the way.  I am attempting to catch up on laundry and dishes—this weekend was a mess.  Jaxon scratched his eye and had to go to the ER on Saturday, which I took as an opportunity to get some steroids for me—I’ve been having the Lupus Flare of the Century—sweating, freezing, my face is bright red, my joints are screaming at me individually and often—ugh.  Dr. Shouldi was nice enough to grant me my wish of a Medrol dose pack, so I do feel a bit better today.  Some days lately I just can’t get up unless it’s something urgent—meals, boo-boo’s, potty.

Thank God for Melvin (or MelDin, as the boys call him now).  He’s been filling in the gaps with the kids—he’s not so good with housework.

As far as that goes—Justme [twin sis] actually went and did it—she moved in with her (and my parent’s) lawyer/boyfriend/asshat who can be manipulated into saying or doing anything.


Oh, but anyway, back to the weekend—we didn’t get home until after bedtime, so I called my parents and asked them to pick them up a bit later on Sunday—my mother begrudgingly and snottily agreed to relay the message to my father.  Then we tried to sleep.  I thought the kids would be exhausted and just pass out, but I was wrong.  We all ended up sleeping on Lilly’s double bed, me in the middle with a boy on each side, and Jaxon fell asleep, but Henry tossed and turned, which made me toss and turn.  Then, for the grand finale—around 3am—Henry sat up, cried a little, and then suddenly vomited hot scrambled eggs and soymilk all over the bed, me, and the floor.

Then he had diarrhea all night.

“Mommy.  Mooooooooooooooooooommmmmy!” He puts his pukey-smelling mouth right up to mine.

“Ogh, Ga-, Ew, Wha?”  Says Mommy.

“I poopy ‘gain.”


That was the rest of my night.

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