Trying to Find My Rose-Colored Glasses

We take things for granted. We're healthy, for the most part. We have a nice home. We have clothing in excess. We have many luxuries: Ipad, Kindle Fires, fancy DSLRs, laptops, Roku, cable TV...so much more.

My kids need nothing more. They have everything they need, yet they still ask for more and more wants. They are supremely lucky, but, as kids are, they don't know how lucky they are. They have friends who have been adopted out of terrible conditions. Heck, they have a family member adopted out of less-than-ideal conditions. I tell them the stories, and they seem grateful for a moment, then the greed monster reappears.

I'm glad they don't know hardship, but I still want them to appreciate what they have; how lucky they are in this life.

These last several months have been hard on my husband, my kids, his family. It's not been easy on me either, but nothing like what my husband and his parents have endured. Craig's favorite aunt passed in September. His brother passed in February.

The end of May brought emergency surgery to save my father-in-law's life. The surgeons removed his colon and some of his small intestine. A second surgery the next day removed more small intestine.

A few days later I took D to the ER for an ear infection. (It was Sunday, the ER is the only option here on Sundays.)

A couple of days later I was at our family med office and getting a chest x-ray. I had the start of pneumonia.

Yet we're still lucky. My father-in-law, after a week of sedation, is starting to come around. He will have a colostomy bag for the remainder of his life. Ear drop antibiotics cleared up D's ear canal. Antibiotics and a lot of rest have me almost totally recovered from my bout of pneumonia.

Yesterday, my father-in-law walked in the halls of the hospital with the aid of a walker. I remember the pain of abdominal surgery and trying to get up to walk. He is doing well, even with setbacks.

While we were walking with my father-in-law, we saw a nest on the window sill with 2 baby robins. They were fuzzy and lively and adorable. Life, proven that it still exists.

I am thankful my kids can enjoy their grandparents still, though I had my kids much later than my parents did. I'd lost all of my grandparents by the age of 18, and they were all fairly young. I hope that my kids will not see more loss for many more years.

We miss my brother-in-law. We miss Craig's aunt.

We miss.

This Title Has Nothing to do With This Post

Today is a big day in many ways. It shouldn't be, I suppose, but it just struck me that it kind of is whether I want it to be or not.

My mom is having surgery on her second eye (and last one, because she only has 2 eyes now) to remove cataracts. My dad had the same surgery just a few weeks ago and it's still hard to get used to seeing him without glasses. I hope the outcome is as great for my mom as it has been for my dad. I'm so happy that they can see so well and no longer need (or will probably no longer need!) glasses. I've joked with them that they might wish they couldn't see ME so clearly. It's probably very scary to see me with such clarity.

Today is also my parents' oldest grandchild's tenth birthday. When he was born, I was about 2 months pregnant with Miss M. My sister-in-law had to have an unplanned c-section a little earlier than planned because the amniotic fluid was leaking somehow. He was also breech, so he apparently just really wanted to be force-ably evicted like my children. I was disappointed to hear that she had to have a c-section because I was hoping for some straight talk about what I was really in for with labor. Hahahahahahaha! I should have been asking her what the c-section was really like since Miss M turned into an emergent c-section instead of the drug-free, possibly agonizing, labor and delivery I had been imagining for 41 weeks.

My brother's oldest boy turning 10 years old makes me realize my own oldest will be 10 in just 7 months. Maybe a long ways away, but when the time goes as quickly as it continues to fly, the day will be here sooner than I am ready. Then it will be gone and I'll be lamenting that she's turning 13, then 16, and then she'll be out on her own. Ten years old, the kids are definitely more than half-way grown.

Every year that passes I love to learn more about who my kids are and who they are becoming. I still miss the babies that they were. I try to mesh the two selves of my kids by telling them the funny and quirky things they said and did when they were smaller. They love to hear the stories and I love their reactions to hearing the stories.

I'm still not certain I won't try to stick them in the freezer one of these days. When they invent the time machine I'm going to have several days and years that I want to revisit.

Possible Answers and Probable Questions

I'm anxious this morning.

My mom is coming out to our house to babysit the three kids. Craig is going to take some time off from work. I will drive to the Mayo Clinic by myself, ride the elevator up and check in at a desk as K Man's mom.

The Mayo Clinic can be intimidating I suppose. I grew up here, mostly. Doctors don't seem that special to me. I could have been a doctor. I didn't want to be one. It's a job; a career. Just like any other. Yes, it takes more training than many choices. But I've met several physicians who probably should have chosen a different vocation. I know myself and I can be cranky. My bedside manner probably would have been crappy at best.

Mayo tries to provide a welcoming atmosphere. In the Gonda building there is a grand piano. Most of the time, there is someone sitting there playing a tune. Sometimes that person is accompanied by someone who sings. Tuesday, there was even a woman who brought her ukulele and sang. People pause and listen if they have time. I had plenty of time while K endured 4 hours of testing.

I'm not sure what outcome I want from this testing. On one hand, he's completely normal and just needs to focus more on spelling and reading. He may just need to "grow up" a bit. On the other hand, he's suffering from a learning disability or two. He's been struggling and I've been pushing him even though he simply can't do what I'm asking him.

Either scenario is less-than ideal. If there are no disabilities found we're left to flounder and fight over reading and spelling homework. If there are disabilities found we have to figure out new approaches to teaching and learning.

It makes my heart hurt for my beautiful boy. We will all soldier on to find the answers we need. And I'll hug and kiss him every step of the way.

Some Answers, More Questions: ADHD or Learning Disability?

The K Man had his first appointment on the road to figure out what is happening in his brain. Anyone who has met him can tell he is friendly, enthusiastic, intelligent and creative. This is the short list of positive things about my son.

We (I and his teachers) suspected ADHD. K Man is movement. Once he had ear tubes as a baby he started crawling and hasn't slowed down since. He talks a lot. A LOT. He can't sit for a meal at home. If there is a toy within foot reach he will fiddle with it until we move it out of reach. Conversely, he can sit for a church service and a funeral service with no issues.

He falls apart if you ask him to practice spelling. If he has math homework he does it with no issues and mostly gets the problems correct the first time. He's still getting help at school in reading and math. The math help at school puzzles me. Though he took a standardized test and scored below grade level in math, reading, vocabulary...etc, etc. When he brings the math worksheets home he does them with no fuss and gets the problems correct most of the time. Spelling and reading homework cause crying jags. Refusals to do homework. Family upset.

Initial diagnosis? He's borderline considered ADHD. I don't like the idea of medication so that is last resort. He may have a learning disability so we're testing for that in a few weeks. My suspicion is that he has a learning disability that causes him to act out. This boy is SO SMART. He's so creative. He has IDEAS. He's happy, friendly but unfocussed.

He's going to be tested for learning disabilities, which I suspect may be the real culprit here. I'm looking at dyslexia with a pointed glare.

It probably seems silly to most parents, the anxiety and stress behind seeking a diagnosis such as ADD or a learning disability, but I assure you it sucks rocks. My boy is my heart. I hate to think there is anything "wrong" with him. (If you think there is something wrong with him I'll arm wrestle you and I'll win.)

I recognize that this diagnosis is far better than something like cancer. Things are relative. We are lucky and not at the same time. Our kids are phenomenal. The appointments for K are because he is struggling with reading, spelling, vocabulary. He consistently transposes letters and numbers. It reeks of dyslexia in my mind. But I'm not a doctor.

The saga continues...

Waiting for Diagnosis

I'm having my son evaluated for ADD. I've been in denial about it for at least a year and suddenly last week it clobbered me with realization. I have mixed feelings about even the evaluation (we have no results as yet) because I worry that if "they" label him with ADD and prescribe medication that we will lose some of the quirky wonderfulness that is the K Man.

Before he's even evaluated by professionals, I'm 98 % sure he'll have some sort of diagnosis. Our regular family doctor assures me that we will be able to choose to NOT give meds on weekends and school breaks if we so choose. So there will be times he will be solely him. I think. If his restlessness and lack of focus didn't cause such strife when we asked him to complete even one page of homework I wouldn't pursue such a diagnosis. The homework and the anguish each page causes is causing a rift in our relationships. K has a meltdown as soon as you mention homework. It takes him an hour and a half to complete one worksheet if left on his own, even with multiple reminders to get to work.

In short, it sucks.

My son is smart. So smart, in fact, that it's this very thing that causes him problems. His brain rarely shuts down. His creativity outshines even mine. He has IDEAS. These ideas are much more important to him than studying spelling or learning to read.

Except he learned to read so that he could create more.

He still insists he doesn't know things that he most probably does know. He gives up rather than trying. He needs to run off energy and doesn't always have time. Even when he can run off energy it is never enough.

Have I mentioned how much I love this kid? I worry that I am doing the wrong thing. I worry that I'm doing the right thing. I worry I will lose this quirky boy that holds so much of my heart.

I worry.

I'm Pretty Sure This Means I'm Older Than Dirt

We've been sick around here. I suppose that's the story for at least half the population in Minnesota about this time of year. We're couped up indoors with other people who haven't yet realized they're sick and spreading the joy of germs around and around. We're also sick of being indoors. Not that we don't go outside. We do, but the proportion of outside time to inside time is tipped heavily on the inside time...and there are many people out in public touching things that should be home in bed. This is why I wash my hands every time I get home from anywhere. My first stop is the sink. Soap. Hot water. WASH HANDS.

It works most of the time. I think we've been pretty healthy this winter for the most part. Of course it's always bound to catch up with us sooner or later. My Bigs were out of school most of the week last week. Finally by Friday my husband took the day off from work to drag the rest of us to the doctor. D came away with a prescription right away for the start of an ear infection and possible strep throat (though the doctor chose to not test for it since she'd be on antibiotics anyway). K Man and I came back negative for strep and Miss M (the only person in the family who lacks tonsils) came back positive for strep. So she's on antibiotics too.

I was disappointed my throat culture came back negative. I can withstand all kinds of pain without much issue or complaint but throat pain is almost unbearable for me. You don't realize how often you have to swallow your own saliva until it hurts like someone shoving a knife down your throat every time you try to swallow. Honestly, I've had labor contractions that I didn't know I was having. I've had three c-sections. I've had and passed a kidney stone. In many ways a sore throat bothers me more.

I love that I'm writing a blog post about my aches and pains. Hi, I'm Heather and I'm 80 years old. Next thing you know I'll be eating supper at 4 o'clock. (You can't prove I've ever done that. Can you?)

Get off my lawn!

In the spirit of full-disclosure I also have hair growing in odd places, like the side of my neck, and also my feet are dry and fugly beyond belief.

It's bad that I shake my head at the kids who have their music thumping in their cars, right?

Shoot, I'm starting to say things like: "They should have done something about him 30 years ago" and "Oh yeah, we had a skating arena here about 25 years ago, it's where the bingo hall is now."

That's just wrong. Wrong I tell you. And in a little less than 2 months I will be 29. Again.

How long can I say I'm 29?

Random Thoughts #48

1. Last week I attempted a return to running. I ended up coughing and gasping for air for hours afterward. This finally prompted me to ask my doctor (while at D's well-child visit) about the possibility of something being wrong with me (besides being fat and out of shape and crazy). She set up a pulmonary function test and the result is that I have asthma. And apparently it is sort of on the bad side. So I have 2 inhalers now. One that I take twice per day as a preventative steroid. The other I am to take before I exercise and during exercise if I have an attack. I'm guessing I've had asthma since I was a kid and just thought that it was normal to not be able to breathe during exercise. I am going to attempt running again this week. We'll see what difference the inhalers make.
2. My purse, every summer, no matter what purse I have or how much I paid for it the strap makes my arm break out in a rash. So I bought a purse yesterday with a cloth strap. We shall see if this makes all the difference as well.
3. My oldest brought home a homework assignment last week that graphed life expectancies. One of the life expectancies was that of a house cat. 15 years. This prompted a discussion about our cat and how long she'll be around still. She's almost 13. The kids are torn between thinking about missing her and planning the next pet they want to get. It's something like a hamster or a gerbil or a dog or fish. Something like that.
4. I told the kids we would be pet-free for at least a year when the cat dies.
5. They seem convinced that I will not last that long. I am fairly convinced that I will not cave on that year moratorium.
6. Including today my Bigs have 8 days of school left. Eight days of Kindergarten. Eight days of second grade. Wow! I'm excited to have 6 weeks with them before we have to return to the school routine.
7. I'm oddly excited to see Wipeout again.
8. I'm still jealous of the people going to BlogHer in NYC. More because I would like to visit NYC again. I'm too anxious to attend a blog conference. I'm too socially stupid.
9. My posting at CZ is likely to dwindle in the coming summer days. All 5 of you who read regularly are likely to be too busy to read as much anyway.
10. I have issues.

What a Difference a Year Makes

Just last year we were concerned about D's size, or lack thereof. She was tiny, falling off the growth charts, but still eating a lot of food. The doctor worried that D's body wasn't absorbing what she ate and even tested for Celiac Disease. All her tests returned normal, and deep down I'd known she was fine.

One year later, we returned for her 2-year well-child visit. I'd charted her height at home back in November and again on her birthday. She grew 2 1/2 inches in 6 months.

She runs, she climbs, she jumps. She eats obscene amounts of fruits and vegetables and little else. I suppose she is a little natural-born vegetarian. She does eat meat, but not in significant quantities and if you give her the choice between meat or veggies, meat will never win. She observes all that is around her and if you think she doesn't know what's happening or how to do something you will find you are sorely mistaken.

So. This year? She's up to the 34th percentile in weight and the 94th percentile in height. NINETY FOURTH percentile in height. For a little girl falling of the charts last year, she sure knows how to make a comeback.

She's tall and lean and can take care of herself. Sort of.

Moving On

The passing of another anniversary of Jesus' birth and the appearance and subsequent disappearance of the jolly fat man in the red suit has left me more relieved rather than the usual post-holiday let down. I left too many things to the last minute this year and the stress of trying to do it all and maintain a supervisory role over my children took a toll.

I made a spur-of-the-moment appointment to see our family physician to see if there was a reason that I keep getting strep throat other than the fact that I'm not taking care of myself like I should. The short answer is that I need to start taking better care of myself. I need to stop staying up late at night but I have trouble getting to sleep. My mind continues to mull over the day behind me and the day ahead long after I need my mind to take a rest. So the first step in "fixing" me is that I'm to start taking prescription sleep aids for a few weeks. I haven't started them yet, because I'm stupid and I like to procrastinate. I also had some blood tests run to check out some other issues that are going on. The results of those tests will determine what other actions or medications might be in order.

Giving in and going to see my doctor feels wimpy and weak to me. I'm not sure why, but it does. But I can't keep getting sick. I'm not good at asking for or accepting help for anything. Don't try to tell me I can't do everything I want to do because that will make me dig my feet in and try to do more. More is never enough either.

Yet I write this and look around my house and see all that I do not get done. Our dining room table is piled with my card and scrapbooking supplies. The kitchen counters are littered with the 17619 papers that M and K bring home from school. The laundry baskets always seem to be overflowing with clothes that I have yet to put away. I suppose the clutter of my home reflects the clutter in my mind. Clear one, perhaps I can clear the other, though I'm not sure which is the chicken and which is the egg.

About Why I'm Not Writing

I haven't had time to write, to read, to do much but make, wrap, prepare, prepare, prepare for Christmas. This is the first year in a long time that I haven't been completely prepared for Christmas at least a week in advance. It's unsettling for me that I'm not prepared, that I'm cutting it this close even though I cut out some of the things I usually do and buy this time of year.

I went to see a doctor on Friday because my throat suddenly (literally, suddenly) started hurting Thursday night on my way home from book club. Sudden onset for me means strep. So I went to see the doctor. She was not my regular doctor, but her sister and she's seen me for various things the last few years. She wanted to do a throat culture since this would be my third bout in 3 months. She looked in my throat and cringed. It didn't even hurt that badly yet! I was being proactive before the weekend! She swabbed my tonsils and cringed again. Wow, that looks like blood on there. I think I'll just write you a prescription so you can get started on it. So I started on my double strength penicillin and called to find out the results of the test later on that night. Strep. Confirmed. So I'm guessing someone in this house is carrying strep and I'm the lucky one that keeps getting sick. On the plus side, I went in this time before I wanted to cut my neck off. So it didn't get as bad or as hurty as it did the last two months.

I have an appointment with my regular doctor tomorrow. I haven't had a check up since just after D was born so I guess it is time.

Sometimes I watch my children and my heart hurts for them. I see M accidentally drop her plate of mashed potatoes and immediately stoop to clean it up, nervously watching to see if she'll be yelled at for this mistake. I see K Man accidentally rip a drawing he'd worked on intensely. Disappointments, mistakes. I hate this. I didn't know it would physically hurt me to see my kids hurt like this. And these are small things. How will I survive their bigger mistakes? Also, how can I change my reactions to these things now so that my kids are not so anxious and upset?

My big kids are now on another 3 week break from school. They survived 3 whole weeks without getting in trouble so I took them to a local bounce house as a reward per our agreement. Ms. D also had a blast there. I've tried to be very conscious of smiling and greeting my kids with joy when I pick them up from school. I remember being pregnant with M and watching an Oprah show or something like that and a mother saying she wanted her kids to always see her smile when they entered the room. I know I don't smile every time they enter the room, but I try very hard to make sure my kids know that I love them even if (and this is MY fault) I yell at them or seem angry. My new year's resolution is to be less of a grump. Kids are kids, if I lighten up and just have fun with them the days go much better.

This post is very random, so I suppose I should have titled it as one of the random thoughts posts, but then again I'm sort of lazy so...

Let's be honest. I'm A LOT lazy.

I've made some Christmas gifts, designed our family's Christmas card and a card for a friend, wrapped 6582 presents, made holiday goodies, prepared holiday appetizers, gained 479 pounds and read very little in the book my cousin loaned me (Jodi Picoult's Plain Truth).

D has redecorated our tree at least 12 times a day. I have a pile of ornaments that I can't find the hanging hooks for that D has either brought to me or I've wrestled from her. She's discovered the switch on the power strip that turns the lights on and off so she does that 268 times a day now. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.

Oh the joys of toddlers at Christmas time!

So I'm cranky and tired but an insomniac so I stay up too late and get more tired and cranky. I plug away at things that need to be done and stress about it even though things almost always get done.

When I say stressed I really mean stressed. I recently woke up in the shower. At three in the morning...having previously been asleep. Nothing says stressed like waking your sleepwalking self up by taking a shower! Interesting how I choose to release my stress isn't it?

So! Hope you're not as stressed and you're not taking showers in your sleep at 3 in the morning. That's my holiday wish for you. You're welcome.

Simply Joy Sunday #42

I've enjoyed celebrating the little joys in life every Sunday here at Cool Zebras. This Sunday my joys are very simple:

I love drugs. Especially drugs that make the searing pain in my throat go away. In fact, that's another simple joy: being able to swallow without fear of the razor blades scraping my throat. Also, not drooling all over my pillow because I don't want to swallow.

I'd much rather recover from abdominal surgery than to have strep throat. This is my second round in 9 weeks. Gee, this winter is going to be F.U.N!

Anyone still playing along? Leave me your link (and don't forget to link here!) and I'll link all the participants here as usual.

Playing Along:

Athena's Armoury

Mrs. Dragon's Wares

Random Thoughts #41

1. The baby got her first dose of the H1N1 vaccine. Apparently kids up to age 10 have to have two doses, 1 month apart. So, poor D will get 3 flu shots this year. I wish they would tell you that when you schedule the first shot, I would have scheduled the second one while I was on the phone the first time since it took 30 minutes of waiting to get the first one scheduled. But that would be way too convenient for people I suppose.
2. Due to a scheduling snafu, I will be posting over at Midwest Parents again next week. Apparently I forgot the first week of November. I hope there wasn't a subconscious or clairvoyant reason that I wanted to forget next week! Have you been to the new Midwest Parents yet? We have tips for running a healthy and happy family, Wordless Wednesday, Thursday Good Reads, and recipes on Fridays. With seven bloggers, you're sure to find someone new you'll enjoy reading!
3. Our trees have arrived for the annual Festival of Trees and decorating is scheduled to commence next week. It's always a lot of work for me, but it's fun too (when I'm not getting stressed out). Last year D rode in the sling when we were putting the trees up in the Civic Center. I suppose this year she'll have to sit in the stroller while I put the finishing touches on the tree. She still fits in the sling too, so I guess that's still an option too.
4. The big kids are having their "character parade" at school this afternoon. D is going to wear one of her costumes when we go watch too. They are so excited. Hopefully it's not raining so they can parade outside.
5. I wonder if I'll remember that Daylight Savings Time ends this weekend? Extra hour of sleep!

Ugh

So I went to a doctor yesterday instead of just the nurse that I went to on Sunday. He took one look in my throat and said "Wow, that looks painful" and prescribed penicillin based on the fact that my symptoms came on suddenly and the looks of my throat. Three doses in and my throat is feeling about 80 percent better, which is good, except last evening it felt better than it does this morning.

My dad is coming to watch the kids again for a bit this morning so I can rest some more. He is such a great Boppa. I'm grateful I have him to help.

My guess is that I will be much better by this afternoon. I hope. I feel badly that my kids are missing out on the "fun" I promised them during their school break. It seems that at least one of us is sick at every break though. With any luck we'll be building a cookie house or painting bird houses this afternoon.

I'm sick of being sick. How are you?

Short of Breath

She was fine when she fell asleep, early, though she was snoring loudly. The snoring wasn't completely unusual though. When she's particularly tired after a long day, she snores. The snores that night may have been a little louder than usual, but I assumed she was just extra exhausted.


I think it was the commotion upstairs that woke her. K has been doing great at school, but when he gets home he's wiped out from following directions all day. I remember M being extremely tired the first few weeks of Kindergarten too. The tiredness manifests in whining and crying and insistence that he is not tired. He doesn't even know what he's saying half the time I don't think. So when he woke D up he was lobbying for a book even though he'd already stayed up later than he should have. He had his heart set on the book and his heart was breaking. The only thing to do at that point is usually give him what he wants in wish form. ("You wish you could read a book! I know! That would be great wouldn't it? But it's bedtime now!") D was up and crying. While I tried to comfort K Man I noticed her breathing. Craig noticed it too.


She was wheezing (but really it was stridor, not wheezing). Her cries sounded hoarse. Her voice reminded me of when I was hospitalized with mono as a teen. The doctor had called my speech "hot potato speech" because my glands were so swollen in my neck that it sounded like I had a hot potato in my mouth. We got K calmed and in bed and took D back downstairs.


Craig and I listened to D with increasing alarm. She cried and seemed to be struggling to get air. The noise came on the inhale though. We tried to look in her throat to see if her tonsils were swollen, but that was a lost cause. I saw her chest heaving. Craig said he didn't like how she sounded. I told him I was taking her to the ER.

I drove with the radio turned down so I could hear her. I didn't know if she would continue to struggle for breath or even stop breathing. She seemed slightly better as we approached the hospital. The surface parking lot for the ER was full so I had to park in the underground ramp. It took several minutes longer for me to reach the ER. D was bright-eyed and still breathing noisily, but seemed happy nonetheless.

We only sat in the waiting room for a minute before we were called to take D's temp, weight, etc., then we were placed in a room.

We saw a total of 3 doctors. It's a teaching hospital, so first up we had the student doctor. He looked about 12 and had a nervous stutter. He was respectful and listened. He was a little clueless.

Then his supervisor, a resident, came in to make his assessment. He was also pleasant (and taken with Ms. D's cuteness) but sort of made me feel that I was an overprotective nervous mother who brought her child in for a common cold. But before he discharged D, he needed the staff doctor to sign off.

Both men had used a stethoscope to listen to D's lungs. She tolerated this for only a few breaths then would grab the end of the stethoscope and try to fling it back at the doctor. I laughed every time. I think I have another girl who knows her own mind and is not going to take anything laying down.

The staff doctor entered and sort of cooed at D. Then he looked at me and remembered himself "Did I introduce myself?" I couldn't remember. "I think I forgot to introduce myself. I got distracted by this cute little one." (I think he was referring to the baby.) By this time we'd been at the ER for 2 hours. D's breathing had steadily improved as we waited for each new doctor. "She sounds great right now," the staff doctor said. So I figured I was going to get another lecture, the gist of which would be that I was overreacting.

But that wasn't the case. He asked me to describe what had happened at home again. He asked when the noise occurred (inhale or exhale or both). He asked if she sounded hoarse. He asked if she'd been coughing (no) if she'd had a cold (no) and if she'd been sick at all recently (no). Even with my "no" responses to these questions the doctor determined she had croup. (Which never occurred to me since she was not coughing.) He said given the fact that she seemed to get better in the car on the way to the ER, and still improved in the cool environment of the ER, and given the fact that the noise occurred on the inhales rather than the exhales (which would indicate asthma) that it was croup. We decided to give her an oral steroid to decrease the swelling in her throat (hence the hoarseness). He said the steroid wouldn't help that night but would help the next night. (and it did)

So. Croup. Without a barking cough. And thank goodness it wasn't something more serious. I can tell you it is a very scary thing when you see your 14-month-old struggling for air. I can also tell you it is a relief to know that she is okay.

Aching

Miss M has been having stomach aches. They started just before we scheduled her tonsillectomy, and I blamed them on the ibuprofen they told us to give her to try to reduce the size of her tonsils. I stopped giving her the ibuprofen but the aches didn't resolve. We talked and it came out that she was being bothered by another girl at school. Her teacher handled the situation and the stomach aches vanished for a while.

They have returned a few more times, seemingly randomly, and have disappeared again.

Last week they started again. Every day.

These aren't just oh Mom I have a stomachache kind of aches. No, they are holding the stomach, moaning, screaming, crying kind of aches. She thinks she is going to throw up, but she doesn't. Sometimes she needs to go potty, but it doesn't seem to help the ache.

Last Friday I took her in to see the doctor to rule out any medical cause for this pain. I think it is largely psychosomatic, but I needed to be sure. We are keeping a diary of abdominal pain, times, duration, circumstances, etc. But so far it is the opinion of the doctor that it is anxiety related.

I am keeping the diary, but I am also starting to work with her to try to relieve these anxieties. I know 1st and 2nd grade seem to be highly stressful for kids for some reason or another and I want to start developing better coping techniques with her. Yesterday I gave her a notebook to journal in when she's upset or has something she'd like to talk about. She seems excited to try it.

We'll try to avoid even the joking things that could make her worry. We'll give her Tylenol when the aches hit. We'll encourage her to talk and to write.

We'll hope that this new growing pain goes away soon.

I Spell Relief The Same As You Do, I Think

So Ms. D is small. She's long and lean and weighs much less than my other two children at one year of age. I've had the sense that she is just built small. K was not a small baby, but he has been a small boy...although not as small as D. M has been average, then bigger than average and now I think she is approaching average again.

Full disclosure: She still weighs less at one year of age than my other two children weighed at 4 months. Yeah. Wrap your mind around that.

At her one-year checkup we all marveled at how D has met and in many cases exceeded expectations in many milestones. She eats and eats A LOT. She climbs, she cruises. She uses baby signs to tell us she wants more or to eat. We can see that she is so smart.

But the doctor that we have for me, for our children, for my husband; our family doctor who is always, always on the laid-back-you-are-doing-the-best-you-can-best-for-your-kids kind of doctor at the end of D's 12-month (usually do not see the doctor) visit said that she thought we needed to do some tests to make sure D was absorbing the food she's eating. I maintained my composure but my heart was breaking. Was I hurting my child in some way? Did I screw up?

So we took D downstairs after holding her down for 3 shots. She had 1 shot in each leg and one in one arm. She recovered from her indignation pretty quickly after the shots. We rode the elevator to the basement where the lab tests are taken for the family medicine cases. It was the same testing area where I've been several times: for pregnancy confirmation or negation, for x-raying my finger, for other blood tests.

But when we were called for D, they escorted us to the farthest, out of the way room, with a door to close. I sensed the impending horror as we approached the room. Honestly, it's never good when they isolate you from the rest of the patients.

D was brave, and frightened and cried hysterically. The first nurse, probably a student (dang that teaching hospital thing) was unsuccessful at tapping a vein for the blood draw. She was slow and unskilled and I was hearing my baby scream hysterically. When you hear your child suck in her breath between screeching screams, especially your tiny, smaller than the others, last baby, scream this kind of scream it is not fun. Not at all.

She finally asked the other nurse if she'd like to try. It all was annoyingly and heartbreakingly slow motion. The other nurse took over and after shifting the needle a bit was able to tap a vein. The blood flowed annoyingly slow from my tiny baby's arm.

When your child is screaming the whole time this type of procedure is happening I can assure you that you will feel terrible.

Days later I have learned that all of the tests performed so far are normal. Our baby seems to be fine, but is small. Sometimes the very best things come in small packages.

I Never Thought I'd Owe the Cat an Apology

Oh the joys of taking the cat to the vet. If you have never done so, you are indeed a fortunate person.

On this trip, it took me approximately 15 minutes to even find the cat, which has to be the all-time slowest cat-finding expedition, especially considering the size of our house. I looked in all the usual spots--or so I thought--no Chat. So I get the treat jar and shake it at random points throughout the house.

Bottom of living room stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat!?!

Top of kitchen stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat??! Even I am not convinced I'd get up from a nap for a treat at this point.

**shake shake** **rattle rattle** Chat?

I realize we made the mistake of getting the cat carrier out of storage just the night before instead of a few days in advance. We have to set the cage out days before so that the cat can start to think that maybe, just maybe, we will forget to take her to the vet.

Finally, as I watch the time ticking closer to when she's supposed to be having a thermometer shoved up her butt,* I desperately open another can of cat food even though she woke me up at 5 a.m. for her breakfast. Within seconds she appears in the doorway of the basement. Of course she was in there, it was the one room I didn't look in because I couldn't imagine any comfortable place in there she could possibly have been lounging. Whatever Cat. She tries to escape as I approach her, but even in my old age I am faster than her. I shove her butt into the cage with surprising ease, grab the baby and away we go.

**Meow meow meow meow**

Chat feels the need to express her misery.

*Meow meow*
**
*meow*

Wow, a small pause in the whining! I enjoyed those blissful 3 seconds.

Dear cat, You are just riding in the car. You're in a cage. No one is hurting you. I can assure you that this whole trip will be more uncomfortable for me than for you. Enough with the whining. Cordially, Me

Did I mention that it is raining? No? Of course it is raining and not the lovely sprinkling that feels so nice on a hot day, not the intermittent drizzle, no, it's a steady downpour.

**shakes fist** Who scheduled this appointment for today anyway? Why is everyone looking at me?

So I'm driving along listening to Chat complain about the horrors of riding in the car in a cozy little cat carrier and I start to compose a blog post (quite possibly this blog post) in my head because that's what I do. When life hands me lemons, I write a blog post about it in my head because I'm nothing if not considerate enough to share my pain with others.

Then I start to realize that the Baby is kind of quiet so, oh joy, she has probably fallen asleep and I will have to rouse my sleeping baby to carry her and my whiny cat through the rain into the vet's office. Who scheduled this appointment for nap time? Who? Me? Why? Oh yeah, because I'm STOO-PID.

But as luck would have it, D woke up just as I pulled into the parking lot and the rain let up to a slower downpour so we only got soaked enough to be mildly uncomfortable during the entire visit to the vet. I should note that the whiny cat was completely dry.

I've grown weary of explaining that my cat's name is Chat, pronounced Shaw, which means cat in French, so I just say yes when they ask if I've brought Chat-like the conversation-with me. What kind of weirdo do they think I am for naming my cat after a conversation?

*turns out they take the cat's temp with an ear thermometer now.

Once we get in the exam room, the real fun begins with the laundry list of things wrong with the cat, which, interestingly enough does NOT include the arthritis the vet last year told us that she was developing. It does, however, include impacted anal glands. Say that 5 times fast without cringing. Then the vet said "I'll evacuate those for you before you leave" and I'll admit "thank you" didn't seem quite like the most appropriate response to that statement, but there you have it.

Apparently I was wrong about this visit being harder on me this time.

On the way home with my baby in the back seat and my cat with the newly-cleared anus on the seat beside me I pondered the estimate for $700 of workups and procedures for my 13-year-old cat. Cat's don't live that much longer than 13 do they? I mean I love my cat but I don't have $700 to spend on a cat that is going to die in a year anyway. Plus we have human medical bills to pay at this point. I know, I'm a terrible pet owner, but there you have it. So I don't know what to do about the cat now.

But hey, at least the butt probe was free!

Sorry If You Missed the Concert. It Was Excellent.

A visit to the dentist is never that exciting or even pleasant, although I have been lucky and not had any terribly unpleasant experiences in the chair. Taking my children to the dentist is much like taking them to the doctor. The waiting is the excruciating part.

K had his appointment last week. We arrived right on time and he was called for his appointment within a few minutes. It was wonderful.

M had her appointment on Monday after school. I had K and D with me as well. K had just spent all afternoon at preschool which always tires him out anyway. He gets extra goofy and wild and has a hard time controlling himself when he's tired. So the Monday afternoon appointment was less-than ideal to say the least.

We arrived for M's appointment a little in advance. They called her back for x-rays then she returned to the waiting area to wait for her cleaning. K was bouncing off the walls almost immediately. He controls himself at school and follows the rules so I think when he gets back with me he feels like he can let loose of that control. Lucky me.

After a few minutes I noticed an older boy listening to his iPod. K, do you want to listen to music? Perhaps this would keep him at least sitting still. I had hope.

I got him set up with K's Playlist and helped him put the earbuds in his ears. Within moments he was singing, somewhat loudly.

I tried to shush him but honestly, I thought it was cute. Even the sort of grumpy old man waiting said that he was enjoying the "radio"...well at least at first. I'm thinking after a few minutes he tired of the cuteness, but I did not. K sang along with Little Wonders, Hot Girls, Beautiful Boy and Down at the Sunset Grill.

He sang loud and unabashedly. Pure innocence and love for life and music. This boy of mine has a heart of gold.

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I've got a review over at The Zoo Review on another show we were fortunate enough to go see last weekend! Thomas and Friends!

Sometimes Ignorance is BLISS

::clears throat::

Pull up a chair. Let me tell you about my day yesterday. I thought it would be a normal, perhaps boringly normal, day. And it started out that way. It really did. And I am glad it wasn't any more unusual than it was. It could have been worse, apparently.

My oldest child, Miss M, entered my bedroom earlier than I'd have liked, but right on schedule for our new normal. In truth, this 7 a.m. wake-up call from my oldest is a major improvement in her sleep habits from pre-tonsillectomy. The tonsillectomy, even though M has had an ear infection since, has been a good thing...a draining thing, but a good thing. M is still hyper-dramatic about everything but that is probably a 6-year-old-going-on-13-year-old thing.

The night before this awakening Ms. D had awoken each time I attempted to lay her in her crib from midnight until she finally slept there at 2 a.m. K had been up once to pee, another time and I fooled myself into thinking he'd gone back to bed. Later I'd gone to the bathroom to turn the light off (that I assumed he'd forgotten to turn off) and discovered him asleep on the floor with his bare butt in the air. He was up again at around 3 or 4. (His dad got up with him that time so I didn't note the time that closely.)

So let me just say I was tired. I had attempted to go to bed "early" for me but my children said "uh-uh." Just Monday I was in bed sleeping at 6 pm and stayed there all night. My house seems to have the plague. The baby was barfing last weekend. PLAGUE.

The older kids played. They ate breakfast. They actually got dressed when they were told to (notably, K got dressed first...this is the boy who not only "rides on 2 wheels" but also dawdles.). They wanted to play their new Superheroes Operation game. They played. D napped.

I went about the actions of getting lunch ready. I vaguely recall that K had laid down. (Why do I not notice the signs EVER?) Once lunch was ready...minutes, literally...I went to get K up to eat and he told me he could not open his eyes. WTF?

So then I wondered about the validity of his distress and M ate lunch while K lay and remained pretty much silent and motionless which is, in itself, in indication of something radically wrong with the universe. (This is the child that people will tell me, within minutes of meeting him, "wow he's a hoot!" or "he's quite the character" and he is.)

I called the nurse line to see if I was a freak, overprotective mom (uh instincts have not been wrong more than 3-4 times in 6 1/2 years) because I hate to feel like I am overreacting. I answered 4382 questions with mostly comments like "I'm not sure how bad his pain is since I am not him" and also "well, his eyes are puffy but he has been crying too so I don't know if it's normal crying puffiness or abnormal weird-eye-stuff puffiness." Eventually she told me to bring him in for an appointment.

So I spent the time from then until we needed to leave for the appointment torn between letting my son nap (who had been up 3 times each of the previous nights) and keeping him up to keep an eye on him. In the end, he napped for an hour and I spent another 5-10 helping him open his eyes again through the gunk.

****Is anyone still here? Honest to God I don't know why anyone reads this blog. ***Crickets***

Let me jump ahead to the actual diagnosis. K has bilateral (fancy medical talk for "BOTH") ocular (fancy medical talk for "EYES") cellulitis. Or so that's what this doctor thought. I'd link you to the medical page but really you don't care that much so I'll just tell you. It's a bacterial infection of the deep tissue. (K's eyelids and tissue underneath are infected.) It seems to be staph or some other crappy germ. It is potentially fatal if left untreated. He is being treated and I keep reminding myself of that.

It's really just that "potentially fatal" that stops a mother's heart. Also, "bring him in if he seems to get worse." Well Holy Hell, my judgment is a little off because you told me my son could potentially die when he was just fine this morning.

So we went to SuperTarget (because we love to spend money there and it is only 3 minutes from home on even a bad day) and filled his prescription. We also bought a couple more DVDs because really, what is the difference when you already own 14682 DVDs?

Once we got home I tried to put away the groceries, soothe the baby who is (thank the good Lord) almost always low maintenance and happy, plus get a snack ready for K since he needed food with his medicine. And of course Miss M was jealous of the attention even though she had it all not so long ago.


At this point I was able to dose my boy with antibiotics. He looked something like this, which was actually pretty healty-looking compared to to earlier (and, in retrospect, later) times.


I thought K was napping but turns out he just couldn't open his eyes again. Turned into about 3 hours of that. He didn't tell me. Sigh. NO REALLY. SIGH.

I was near to calling the ambulance for the little dude, but we did get his eyes open again. His eyes looked worse to me, but he'd also been laying down for 3 hours. We got him to open his eyes (with the help of wet cloths) then he ate a little food.

I woke him up late last night to dose him again with antibiotics. His eyes were again matted shut. I gave him a cool rag to put over his eyes. I don't know if it will help him at all, but it is a token of help I suppose.

I reach the end of this post and as usual I cannot wrap it up like the big time bloggers/writers/etc. seem to be able to do. I will take my son and myself to the doctor and hope we'll be better. We are both to be seen today to check on my (utterly ridiculous) finger and K's potentially serious eyes. I will update this as I can.

At this point though, I see my little boy with his eyes matted shut, who also has 2 infected ears, but complained of little.

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Aweigh post below.

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Updated: K's eyes are looking a lot better today. The doctor said that the antibiotics are working and he should be just fine. Thank goodness.

Giving You The Finger

So Thursday was apparently the day for me to fall down the stairs again. I've done it 3 times now in this house. It's sort of expected that it will happen every few years.

It was late morning. I was rushing to use the bathroom and get back downstairs. D has started climbing stairs and this time I thought I'd just pop upstairs to potty quickly and get back before she attempted the stairs. Most of the time I pop her in the pack and play or bring her upstairs with me but for whatever reason (thank goodness) I left her in the living room this time.

It was almost time to leave to take K to Boppa and Amma's house so D and I could go to her ECFE class. I suppose that's why I was rushing too. I came out of the bathroom and made it down the first few steps to the landing without incident. Then the second half of the stairs and my feet seemed to fail me. I think I hit the tread with only part of my foot which led to my foot slipping off the tread and sending me instantly downward. The brunt of my fall was taken my the three fingers of my left hand and (to a lesser degree) my right forearm. My finger bent backwards and I immediately thought that I'd broken all three.

D was at the bottom of the stairs, but again, thankfully, off to the side so I didn't land on her.

K said something on the order of "that's why you need to hang on" or something similarly unintentionally smart-assed. Then he wanted to climb in my lap and comfort me which really was not what I wanted at the time, although very sweet and well-intentioned.

I sucked it up and went to D's class but later that night I thought my middle finger might really be broken. I discussed the topic at length with several of my followers on Twitter. I don't think I've ever had such a response to any of my tweets.

Then Friday morning I realized I couldn't bend my finger much anymore and it was rather bruised. I called to make an appointment to see a doctor even though I knew they would essentially just tape up my finger and say "yep, you broke it!"

So here is the finger, pre-x-ray (which was RUSHED, btw. VIP finger apparently.) I did actually have it taped better than that the night before but I'd taken it off to shower and couldn't just slid it back on. And I'm too cheap to use more gauze and tape.

(Please take note of the awesome new jeans that are one whole size smaller than my old jeans. Also I love my Sketchers athletic shoes. My camera phone photography skillz ROCK!) Here is the finger post x-ray and post exam by doctor. He was not impressed with my taping job but I didn't feel like explaining the whole shower-removing, cheap-Heather connection.

Turns out the fracture is actually above the joint where the swelling and the bruising actually stop. It's HAWT though, isn't it?

My very sexy splint, to be worn AT ALL TIMES, except when I'm taking a shower (but only if I put it RIGHT BACK ON upon exiting the shower). I'm supposedly saddled with this for 3 to 4 weeks. Good times. Especially since M's 3-week school break is starting. I AM quite sad that I will not be able to wash dishes (that I mostly don't wash anyway). Oh well, doctor's orders!

During my exam the doctor paused and noted that my fingers are apparently freakishly long from the joint up. He felt the need to comment on this and seemed to sit in utter disbelief for a few moments. It's nice to know that I can stun doctors.

Freakishly long? These are the non-hurty digits.