I am *almost* caught up with pics now though! Woohoo etc.
And here is a pic of his hair all spikey. He's too cute.
Showing posts with label Glenn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Glenn. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
As promised...
Labels:
Glenn
Turtle's pony tail pic. It's from May, sorry.
I am *almost* caught up with pics now though! Woohoo etc.
And here is a pic of his hair all spikey. He's too cute.
I am *almost* caught up with pics now though! Woohoo etc.
And here is a pic of his hair all spikey. He's too cute.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Don't worry, she's fine
Labels:
Glenn
Ok, so granted, my 22 month old son has a thing for girly underpants. He's an expert at locating pairs around the house, and he loves them. He doesn't discriminate between clean and stinky underpants. When he finds a pair, he'll either ask to wear them (even over his diaper is satisfactory)
..or he'll carry them around as a comfort item.
Which I know is not the most masculine trait ever. And also, he does have great taste in female attire. He loves to prance around sporting his sisters' fancy dresses, with all the frills and colors.
I know his hair is a little longer than most moms allow their little boys' hair to grow before buzzing it off, but I can't bare to have it cut and thankfully his long haired Daddy is in agreement with me. So it will grow until we feel emotionally ready to part with it.
Meanwhile I'll just have to put up with encounters such as the one I had at the playground last week. It was hot, I was tying back the girls' hair and Turtle wanted his tied back too. It's not the first time he's donned a pony tail and shan't be the last. He wore masculine shorts, a washed out reddish colored t-shirt and boyish sandals.
As he happily played at the top of a slide, a little girl was trying to climb up said slide. I wanted to make sure he would move out of the way to let her past so I approached him and gently tried to encourage him to move.
"Oh no, don't worry, she's being nice" the little girl's mother assured me.
Initially I wondered why she was being defensive. I wasn't accusing her daughter of being anything less than nice, I simply wanted to make sure my son would allow her to pass by. She continued to explain, "she's being friendly, don't worry. Milly shouldn't be climbing up anyway" and it occurred to me that the "she" to whom she referred was in fact my son.
I guess I should have seen it coming. To me, he's all boy. He loves sound effects and throwing balls and chanting "go big red!!". But he's not completely Mr Stereotypical Boy. He's sweet, loving, playful, giggling, dress wearing, underpant snuggling, pony tail wearing boy, and that's fine with me.
Pony tail pics to follow. Can't be bothered looking out my card reader at the moment. :)
..or he'll carry them around as a comfort item.
Which I know is not the most masculine trait ever. And also, he does have great taste in female attire. He loves to prance around sporting his sisters' fancy dresses, with all the frills and colors.
I know his hair is a little longer than most moms allow their little boys' hair to grow before buzzing it off, but I can't bare to have it cut and thankfully his long haired Daddy is in agreement with me. So it will grow until we feel emotionally ready to part with it.
Meanwhile I'll just have to put up with encounters such as the one I had at the playground last week. It was hot, I was tying back the girls' hair and Turtle wanted his tied back too. It's not the first time he's donned a pony tail and shan't be the last. He wore masculine shorts, a washed out reddish colored t-shirt and boyish sandals.
As he happily played at the top of a slide, a little girl was trying to climb up said slide. I wanted to make sure he would move out of the way to let her past so I approached him and gently tried to encourage him to move.
"Oh no, don't worry, she's being nice" the little girl's mother assured me.
Initially I wondered why she was being defensive. I wasn't accusing her daughter of being anything less than nice, I simply wanted to make sure my son would allow her to pass by. She continued to explain, "she's being friendly, don't worry. Milly shouldn't be climbing up anyway" and it occurred to me that the "she" to whom she referred was in fact my son.
I guess I should have seen it coming. To me, he's all boy. He loves sound effects and throwing balls and chanting "go big red!!". But he's not completely Mr Stereotypical Boy. He's sweet, loving, playful, giggling, dress wearing, underpant snuggling, pony tail wearing boy, and that's fine with me.
Pony tail pics to follow. Can't be bothered looking out my card reader at the moment. :)
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Whoever said success tastes good?
It feels like a Monday today. Because it's the first day of something new.
Turtle had a hospital appointment yesterday. It was an 8am appointment in Omaha, which is an hour and a half from here (in our van, faster with a different vehicle probably). We dressed the kids the night before so we could carry them from the bed to the car in the morning without too much bother.
The Infectious Disease Dr told us his labs are looking good and since his knee isn't as swollen, she thought it was time to take his PICC out. I didn't want to believe it, it seemed to good to be true. The IV treatments had been taking over our lives. Through the day and night, trying to get him to stay still on the bed while I pumped the meds through, an hr and half at a time. And all the home nurse appointments, dressing changes, blood draws were all getting old. His skin is so red raw from the dressing, it looks horribly painful and he signs sore next to it a few times a day.
So when they took his PICC out and sent us out with oral antibiotics to give him 2 varieties, 3 times a day for 2-3 weeks, I skipped into the waiting room and greeted Rene with a huge grin, singing:
I've got no strings to hold me down
To make me fret, or make me frown
I had strings
But now I'm free
There are no strings on me
I was so happy to be done with the tubes and the pump and the syringes. I was elated.
The feeling lasted until I attempted to give him his first dose of clindamycin. They gave him it in capsules to break apart and put in food to disguise the flavor, apparently the liquid tastes worse.
I am telling you now, I can't believe it's true because I highly doubt it's possible for anything on earth to taste worse. This is the most disgusting substance known to man. I'd rather drink a pint of gasoline than to take a dose of clindamycin. I'm not exaggerating.
I was singing to myself, unknowing of the trauma I was about to encounter, mixing up a pot of organic butterscotch pudding to put his capsule into. Turtle was resting on my hip watching me stir, inhaling deeply while puffs of sweet fragrance drifted up to his nostrils. He was kicking his legs, staring at the pot and vocalizing his approval, "yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah YEAH!"
Finally it was ready and cool enough to eat. I put it in a bowl while his patience wore completely out and drool formed in his mouth. Then I opened the capsule and poured it in his bowl. There was a little of the power left, I wanted to test its potency so I put a tiny bit on my finger tip and tasted it.
My tongue immediately reacted to the assault and began trying to make me gag. My eyes almost burst out of my head from the pressure it took to stop me from yelling out in disgust. It seemed that the whole room air was filled with the most intense foul, bitter flavor that I was hopeless to get rid of. In desperation, I began throwing miscellaneous food and drink items in my mouth. I brushed my teeth and swished mouth wash around. But everything I tried tasted like clindamycin, it twas as though I were piling more of the stuff in there with every new attempt to flush it out. The flavor hung around for a few hours yet.
Sacrificially, I tasted some of the medication-from-hell/pudding mixture. It was at least as vile as the initial fingertip sample I had endured. I added tons of raw honey....nope, no improvement. Half a bottle of maple syrup. This is one expensive bowl of pudding! Still just as offensive. The stuff is sharp enough, it will penetrate any flavor. It's undefeatable and nondisguisable. It's the super bad guy of yucky, no no, it's the super hero good guy, because the good guys always win and clindamycin will not be conquered.
I managed to get him to take 2 bites of the stuff, by some miracle. And that was all he was going to open up for. I seriously don't blame him. You can't imagine how disgusting this stuff is.
So today is the start of a new era. Administering drugs through the PICC is a thing of the past, replaced now with trying to force this stuff down him for the next 2-3 weeks, 3 times a day.
We bought tons of unhealthy, strongly flavored and sugared food we'd never give our kids otherwise.
This morning I tried splitting it in 3. One third went into the nutella, another into apple sauce and the last into chocolate pudding. Bless his heart, he tried 2 bites of each of them. I don't know if he'll ever trust me to feed him again. But he'd better, because he's just about due his second dose...
If anyone has any tips on how to make this stuff more...survivable, please let me know and I'll love you forever (how's that for motivation. Everybody needs love). Cause the way it's going just now, he's missing a lot of doses, which is not a good situation. And this might very well put him off of eating ever again, which wouldn't be great either.
Turtle had a hospital appointment yesterday. It was an 8am appointment in Omaha, which is an hour and a half from here (in our van, faster with a different vehicle probably). We dressed the kids the night before so we could carry them from the bed to the car in the morning without too much bother.
The Infectious Disease Dr told us his labs are looking good and since his knee isn't as swollen, she thought it was time to take his PICC out. I didn't want to believe it, it seemed to good to be true. The IV treatments had been taking over our lives. Through the day and night, trying to get him to stay still on the bed while I pumped the meds through, an hr and half at a time. And all the home nurse appointments, dressing changes, blood draws were all getting old. His skin is so red raw from the dressing, it looks horribly painful and he signs sore next to it a few times a day.
So when they took his PICC out and sent us out with oral antibiotics to give him 2 varieties, 3 times a day for 2-3 weeks, I skipped into the waiting room and greeted Rene with a huge grin, singing:
I've got no strings to hold me down
To make me fret, or make me frown
I had strings
But now I'm free
There are no strings on me
I was so happy to be done with the tubes and the pump and the syringes. I was elated.
The feeling lasted until I attempted to give him his first dose of clindamycin. They gave him it in capsules to break apart and put in food to disguise the flavor, apparently the liquid tastes worse.
I am telling you now, I can't believe it's true because I highly doubt it's possible for anything on earth to taste worse. This is the most disgusting substance known to man. I'd rather drink a pint of gasoline than to take a dose of clindamycin. I'm not exaggerating.
I was singing to myself, unknowing of the trauma I was about to encounter, mixing up a pot of organic butterscotch pudding to put his capsule into. Turtle was resting on my hip watching me stir, inhaling deeply while puffs of sweet fragrance drifted up to his nostrils. He was kicking his legs, staring at the pot and vocalizing his approval, "yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah YEAH!"
Finally it was ready and cool enough to eat. I put it in a bowl while his patience wore completely out and drool formed in his mouth. Then I opened the capsule and poured it in his bowl. There was a little of the power left, I wanted to test its potency so I put a tiny bit on my finger tip and tasted it.
My tongue immediately reacted to the assault and began trying to make me gag. My eyes almost burst out of my head from the pressure it took to stop me from yelling out in disgust. It seemed that the whole room air was filled with the most intense foul, bitter flavor that I was hopeless to get rid of. In desperation, I began throwing miscellaneous food and drink items in my mouth. I brushed my teeth and swished mouth wash around. But everything I tried tasted like clindamycin, it twas as though I were piling more of the stuff in there with every new attempt to flush it out. The flavor hung around for a few hours yet.
Sacrificially, I tasted some of the medication-from-hell/pudding mixture. It was at least as vile as the initial fingertip sample I had endured. I added tons of raw honey....nope, no improvement. Half a bottle of maple syrup. This is one expensive bowl of pudding! Still just as offensive. The stuff is sharp enough, it will penetrate any flavor. It's undefeatable and nondisguisable. It's the super bad guy of yucky, no no, it's the super hero good guy, because the good guys always win and clindamycin will not be conquered.
I managed to get him to take 2 bites of the stuff, by some miracle. And that was all he was going to open up for. I seriously don't blame him. You can't imagine how disgusting this stuff is.
So today is the start of a new era. Administering drugs through the PICC is a thing of the past, replaced now with trying to force this stuff down him for the next 2-3 weeks, 3 times a day.
We bought tons of unhealthy, strongly flavored and sugared food we'd never give our kids otherwise.
This morning I tried splitting it in 3. One third went into the nutella, another into apple sauce and the last into chocolate pudding. Bless his heart, he tried 2 bites of each of them. I don't know if he'll ever trust me to feed him again. But he'd better, because he's just about due his second dose...
If anyone has any tips on how to make this stuff more...survivable, please let me know and I'll love you forever (how's that for motivation. Everybody needs love). Cause the way it's going just now, he's missing a lot of doses, which is not a good situation. And this might very well put him off of eating ever again, which wouldn't be great either.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Can't wait to see this film (and an update on the wee guy)
Labels:
entertainment,
Glenn
I'll start with the update on Turtle. He had an orthopedics appointment today. I was expecting it to go badly, because he has been crying in pain again at night. Rene kindly took him while I stayed home with the girls.
Turns out the Dr said he is doing perfectly. He x rayed the bone and the bone is still fine! That was the main worry. He also said that when he operated on Turtle's knee, he saw that his muscle, which was badly infected, had torn and was bleeding (I didn't know muscles could bleed?!) and everything. It was in very bad shape. He said it will take a while to heal, but it's coming along just great. Turtle is allowed to be out of his cast as long as he can cope with it. We've to put it back on when it starts to hurt, to give him a break.
He's still not bending his knee, but he's limping around, causing mischief as though he had no disadvantage. So it's all good.
Now about the film. This documentary comes out in May, and it looks great. It follows 4 babies from 4 diverse cultures, (Mongolia, Namibia, San Francisco, Tokyo) and it seems from the trailer that the message is one of a universal human nature. We may have different techniques, baby gear, language, skin tone, customs etc. But we were all made by the same God (I doubt the documentary goes down that particular alley, but I'm goin' there) and at the core of it, we are all the same. We have the same human nature. History, present, future, all over the world. We're all people.
But best of all, it looks like an adorably cute movie. Beautiful videography, adorable footage, lighthearted and sweet. Watch the trailer. There was no way to embed it here, but it won't take that much effort to just click on this link. You can do it, you know you want to.
awesome Babies trailer
and here's a weird pic of my boy and I, because I'm quirky.
Turns out the Dr said he is doing perfectly. He x rayed the bone and the bone is still fine! That was the main worry. He also said that when he operated on Turtle's knee, he saw that his muscle, which was badly infected, had torn and was bleeding (I didn't know muscles could bleed?!) and everything. It was in very bad shape. He said it will take a while to heal, but it's coming along just great. Turtle is allowed to be out of his cast as long as he can cope with it. We've to put it back on when it starts to hurt, to give him a break.
He's still not bending his knee, but he's limping around, causing mischief as though he had no disadvantage. So it's all good.
Now about the film. This documentary comes out in May, and it looks great. It follows 4 babies from 4 diverse cultures, (Mongolia, Namibia, San Francisco, Tokyo) and it seems from the trailer that the message is one of a universal human nature. We may have different techniques, baby gear, language, skin tone, customs etc. But we were all made by the same God (I doubt the documentary goes down that particular alley, but I'm goin' there) and at the core of it, we are all the same. We have the same human nature. History, present, future, all over the world. We're all people.
But best of all, it looks like an adorably cute movie. Beautiful videography, adorable footage, lighthearted and sweet. Watch the trailer. There was no way to embed it here, but it won't take that much effort to just click on this link. You can do it, you know you want to.
awesome Babies trailer
and here's a weird pic of my boy and I, because I'm quirky.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Zoe has an idea, Turtle's recovery and i-Stormy
i-Stormy
We recorded this the day before we ended up in hospital. Uncle Doug had the file for me the next day but I didn't have the chance to put it up. So here it is now, on a Friday. i-Stormy gets weirder and weirder with every episode. That's Lana for ya. I sure love her.
-----------
ZOE HAS AN IDEA
I am missing the whole Tot Talk Tuesday thing. I'm forgetting so many of the cute things they are saying. But I am such a rebel against routine...TTT was starting to feel too much like a chore. I'm so terrible it's shameful.
If you have never met me and are new to this blog then you may not know that Zoe is quite a handful. She's the perfect example of the euphemism, "spirited child". I swear she is like 99.8% choleric temperament type. The wiki describes Cholerics as such,
She's made for greatness. She's a born leader. And it's a heck of a lot of personality in one little body. I love her like crazy.
Zoe turned 3 last weekend. She had a great day. I didn't get many photos because my indoor lenses are broken, and I don't have photoshop on this computer yet, so here's an older photo.
Aw, she looks so harmless there. Which is certainly not the case.
Yes that's how far behind in photo editing I am, the most recent pics I have are from before Winter. I'm ashamed. The rest are stuck on a harddrive in my laptop that blew up, Rene thinks we'll be able to recover them so I'm not too worried. We just need to buy some bits and bobs first.
So one aspect of Zoe's personality that I have been surprised to see blossoming as she gained a year, has been a diplomatic one. Zoe the diplomat, who'd have thunk it? Her elder sisters can be...frank and blunt at the best of times. Downright brutal at others. For example, we were enjoying an innocent song of "Old MacDonald" on finishing up our lunch a couple of days ago. When it was Kaya's turn to name the animals that he had some of on that farm, she suggested, "Mummies". Not as in dead bodies all wrapped up, rather the British endearing title for the maternal figure. It was a very harsh reality check when I heard the noises a "Mummy" might make on the farm. With a "RENE! (with antagonistic intonation) here and a "ZOE, STOP THAT!" there, here a "Aw, poor Turtle" (did I sense some resentment), there a "Kaya, could you please get that for me".
Hmmm, I'm getting the impression that perhaps they might think I don't treat them each equally. Poor Lana, apparently I don't even give her a look in. They're probably right. Kaya and Lana continued with the mocking and Zoe was the only one to notice the gulp and the defeated look in my eyes while I smiled politely and tried to sing along and take a joke. So Zoe piped in, "Everywhere an 'I love you'".
Her recent new phrase is, "I have an idea!!"
And she uses it well. She is so good at coming up with compromises, even when it's mostly HER doing the compromising, she's happy so long as it was her "idea" in the first place. Of course, she uses it to her own advantage also,
"Can I have some water in here?"
"No honey"
"But, why?"
"Because I don't want it to spill everywhere, I just cleaned the floor"
"*gasps, face lights up and fingers point to the sky* I have an idea!!! *queue singsong tone* I pway wiff water in here, and DEN, I get a towel and cwean it UP!!!!"
"*sigh* OK, it's a good idea"
"Can I pwease have some ice cweam?"
"No, it's almost supper time"
"I have an IDEA!!!! You make the supper, I eat my supper all wup and DEN I can have some ice cweam!!!"
I've tried using it on her, but it just doesn't work unless it's HER idea. I suppose it's all part of the Choleric temperament. Still, I'm glad to see her personality being put to good use. She's making some big compromises. Like when her sister beat her to the computer, normally she would just stick her talons out and start expressing her distaste for the situation all over her sisters arms. This morning she gasped and said, "I have an IDEA!! Nana can pway the computer, and DEN when she is all done, she can get off da chair and I can sit in it and then I can pway da computer."
I see only good things coming of this.
-----------
TURTLE'S RECOVERY
He is doing really well. Still on antibiotics, which means we get about 5 hours sleep per night, because of the schedule they are on. Rene copes pretty well on 5 hours, I just plain don't. I'm falling about the place, grumpy and tired.
But Turtle's responding really well. He had an appointment with the Orthopedic Doc today. We were hoping to have the cast taken off, but he said it needs to stay on for one more week, he was really wobbly on his leg. They will x ray it again to check for bone damage, and then he needs another x ray in a year, to double check. The kid has had so many x-rays now, I am sooo not comfortable with that. I don't really know what other choice I have though...
We're still being brought meals every day. I feel so spoiled but it also helps sooo much. I don't know how we'd co-ordinate grocery shopping and cooking just now. We are so off our routine and kind of still just in survival mode. The meals have been yummy and soooooo helpful. We are so lucky and blessed to be so well taken care of.
-------------
TWILIGHT
Oh and I just wanted to say, I finally got round to reading the twilight series. I just finished eclipse. 1 more to go. I am LOVING them. I love the whole high school, vampire, romance thing anyway. So I guess it was inevitable that I would enjoy it. I watched the first movie a while back and wasn't overly taken, but I wanted to give the book a shot and I'm glad I did. I am sucked into the saga now. I want to watch the film again because I'm sure I'll have a new appreciation for it.
< /geekmode >
We recorded this the day before we ended up in hospital. Uncle Doug had the file for me the next day but I didn't have the chance to put it up. So here it is now, on a Friday. i-Stormy gets weirder and weirder with every episode. That's Lana for ya. I sure love her.
-----------
ZOE HAS AN IDEA
I am missing the whole Tot Talk Tuesday thing. I'm forgetting so many of the cute things they are saying. But I am such a rebel against routine...TTT was starting to feel too much like a chore. I'm so terrible it's shameful.
If you have never met me and are new to this blog then you may not know that Zoe is quite a handful. She's the perfect example of the euphemism, "spirited child". I swear she is like 99.8% choleric temperament type. The wiki describes Cholerics as such,
"A person who is choleric is a doer. They have a lot of ambition, energy, and passion, and try to instill it in others. They can dominate people of other temperaments, especially phlegmatic types. Many great charismatic military and political figures were cholerics."
She's made for greatness. She's a born leader. And it's a heck of a lot of personality in one little body. I love her like crazy.
Zoe turned 3 last weekend. She had a great day. I didn't get many photos because my indoor lenses are broken, and I don't have photoshop on this computer yet, so here's an older photo.
Aw, she looks so harmless there. Which is certainly not the case.
Yes that's how far behind in photo editing I am, the most recent pics I have are from before Winter. I'm ashamed. The rest are stuck on a harddrive in my laptop that blew up, Rene thinks we'll be able to recover them so I'm not too worried. We just need to buy some bits and bobs first.
So one aspect of Zoe's personality that I have been surprised to see blossoming as she gained a year, has been a diplomatic one. Zoe the diplomat, who'd have thunk it? Her elder sisters can be...frank and blunt at the best of times. Downright brutal at others. For example, we were enjoying an innocent song of "Old MacDonald" on finishing up our lunch a couple of days ago. When it was Kaya's turn to name the animals that he had some of on that farm, she suggested, "Mummies". Not as in dead bodies all wrapped up, rather the British endearing title for the maternal figure. It was a very harsh reality check when I heard the noises a "Mummy" might make on the farm. With a "RENE! (with antagonistic intonation) here and a "ZOE, STOP THAT!" there, here a "Aw, poor Turtle" (did I sense some resentment), there a "Kaya, could you please get that for me".
Hmmm, I'm getting the impression that perhaps they might think I don't treat them each equally. Poor Lana, apparently I don't even give her a look in. They're probably right. Kaya and Lana continued with the mocking and Zoe was the only one to notice the gulp and the defeated look in my eyes while I smiled politely and tried to sing along and take a joke. So Zoe piped in, "Everywhere an 'I love you'".
Her recent new phrase is, "I have an idea!!"
And she uses it well. She is so good at coming up with compromises, even when it's mostly HER doing the compromising, she's happy so long as it was her "idea" in the first place. Of course, she uses it to her own advantage also,
"Can I have some water in here?"
"No honey"
"But, why?"
"Because I don't want it to spill everywhere, I just cleaned the floor"
"*gasps, face lights up and fingers point to the sky* I have an idea!!! *queue singsong tone* I pway wiff water in here, and DEN, I get a towel and cwean it UP!!!!"
"*sigh* OK, it's a good idea"
"Can I pwease have some ice cweam?"
"No, it's almost supper time"
"I have an IDEA!!!! You make the supper, I eat my supper all wup and DEN I can have some ice cweam!!!"
I've tried using it on her, but it just doesn't work unless it's HER idea. I suppose it's all part of the Choleric temperament. Still, I'm glad to see her personality being put to good use. She's making some big compromises. Like when her sister beat her to the computer, normally she would just stick her talons out and start expressing her distaste for the situation all over her sisters arms. This morning she gasped and said, "I have an IDEA!! Nana can pway the computer, and DEN when she is all done, she can get off da chair and I can sit in it and then I can pway da computer."
I see only good things coming of this.
-----------
TURTLE'S RECOVERY
He is doing really well. Still on antibiotics, which means we get about 5 hours sleep per night, because of the schedule they are on. Rene copes pretty well on 5 hours, I just plain don't. I'm falling about the place, grumpy and tired.
But Turtle's responding really well. He had an appointment with the Orthopedic Doc today. We were hoping to have the cast taken off, but he said it needs to stay on for one more week, he was really wobbly on his leg. They will x ray it again to check for bone damage, and then he needs another x ray in a year, to double check. The kid has had so many x-rays now, I am sooo not comfortable with that. I don't really know what other choice I have though...
We're still being brought meals every day. I feel so spoiled but it also helps sooo much. I don't know how we'd co-ordinate grocery shopping and cooking just now. We are so off our routine and kind of still just in survival mode. The meals have been yummy and soooooo helpful. We are so lucky and blessed to be so well taken care of.
-------------
TWILIGHT
Oh and I just wanted to say, I finally got round to reading the twilight series. I just finished eclipse. 1 more to go. I am LOVING them. I love the whole high school, vampire, romance thing anyway. So I guess it was inevitable that I would enjoy it. I watched the first movie a while back and wasn't overly taken, but I wanted to give the book a shot and I'm glad I did. I am sucked into the saga now. I want to watch the film again because I'm sure I'll have a new appreciation for it.
< /geekmode >
Saturday, February 27, 2010
We're home!
Labels:
Glenn
Yesterday was the worst day of our whole hospital stay. In the morning I heard them tell me how baffled in a good way they were to see how fast his infection is disappearing. The Dr told me when they first did Turtle's surgery, his knee was "Pus central" and now it is looking "pristine". He still has pockets in his thigh, but they don't think it will cause a problem. He's still swollen and sore, but it is getting better fast. And they started throwing around the words "home" and "discharge" and I felt like floating out the window. I was so happy.
Then they had to put his PICC in. Unfortunately the floor got really busy so we had to try to make a sterile environment in his own crib and go ahead and do the procedure there. When the oxygen monitor that had been working fine the whole stay suddenly wouldn't respond at all, I wondered if it were a bad omen. They were able to bring in a portable one so we got ready to go again. Then his IV suddenly was blocked and they couldn't give him medication. *sigh* They all left for a lunch break and gave Turtle oral medication, which would take longer and be less effective.
He didn't enjoy the PICC placement at all. It's so hard to watch your little one cry so, and participate in holding him down and wonder whether he'll ever forgive you. But that was nothing compared to what happened next.
He had to go down to radiology to have his chest x-rayed to check that the PICC was in correctly. They still hadn't taken Turtle off isolation, although they had planned to, the Dr who needed to sign it off was in surgery. So, since Turtle won't keep a mask on his face, they had to put a blanket over his head for the journey. No, correction, *I* had to keep a blanket over his head for the journey. My poor boy, who hadn't been allowed food or water for 6 hours, who didn't understand why I was letting people do these horrible things to him, who's heart broke everytime he signed for milk and I said "it's all done right now", fought me the whole loooong journey to radiology, he struggled to rip the blanket off his face. And everytime he ripped it off, the lady accompanying me scolded me to put it back over him. He cried his eyes out and I have never done anything that so opposed my instincts before in my life. Jumping off a plane without a parachute would have been easier to talk myself into doing. Forcing a blanket over my crying, starving, frightened baby's head while he struggled for air and to see where he was going was stupid and cruel and deeply disturbing.
When we finally arrived at radiology I was quick to remove the piece of fabric that I had torchered my innocent son with, looked guiltily into his eyes, seeing betrayal in the reflection and whispered a plea for forgiveness in his ear. He hadn't come down from that trauma yet when the radiologist asked me to hold him down in an uncomfortable position to get the xray picture.
By this point, Turtle had just had enough. He had been so tolerant his whole hospital trip. He'd had a full savings account of love and tender touch to sustain him and he tolerated everything quite well. The nurses had been saying he was their best patients ever. Drs and anesthetists wandered up from another floor when their shift ended just to say bye to him, because they all had fallen in love with him. He was the sweet, adorable boy with the peaceful temperament, cute blonde hair who had entertained them all with funny faces, adorable noises and affections. But his tolerance had just ran dry. He was tired, hungry, sore, confused, scared and so weary.
I dreaded the moment that came all too soon, when they said, "put this blanket over his head and we'll walk you back". This time was a hundred times worse than the last. He was sobbing from the depths of his soul and my face was red, puffy and soaked with tears. He begged me with his wailing, to let him breath real air, to let him see the room, to have some dignity. Inspired by his natural survival instinct, he used all his strength against my own to try free himself of this cover that was forcing him to re-breathe his own carbon dioxide. The lady accompanying us (I'm not sure if she was a nurse or what?) was not very compassionate and insisted on waiting for an elevator that was empty, since his blanket was constantly being pulled off. I was trying to keep pulling it over his head while my arms ached from the struggle and my heart screamed at me to stop.
She let every stinkin' elevator go without getting on it, because it was busy and there were people in them all. I have never been so close to having a breakdown. I was past my limit. I turned to her, tears streaming down my face while my hands forced this evil blanket to hide the most beautiful boy face, and I confessed, "I can't do this to him anymore.". She had a worried look on her face that suggested she was considering calling security. I stared at a nearby exit and prayed God would help me control my impulse to take my son and run for it. I very nearly did. I knew I wouldn't get far. But I couldn't stay in this hell, playing the roll of Satan. I almost threw the blanket at her and said "YOU keep the stupid blanket on his head". My lips took the form of the first word while I gathered up enough strength to stop myself from being so rude. Instead, I flung a "This is so stupid! He's not even supposed to be in isolation anymore, they just haven't got round to removing it. His cultures were negative and they never proved he had anything. He's so tiny and has been through enough" at her. She gulped and crinkled her face but said nothing. I shivered with cold, and would swear that anyone standing so close to her would be able to see their own breath. She was like a pillar of ice.
When the next elevator came, it was full of people and I knew she wouldn't take it. So I concluded *she* didn't have to take it, but Glenn and I sure as heck were gonna. She sheepishly followed me and uttered a disclaimer to the other people in the elevator, that he is in seclusion and isn't fully covered. No body cared. They saw this poor boy, flailing as though he were struggling for life and his mother, the perpetrator, completely beside herself in anguish while she commits this crime, unwillingly. I felt compassion in their gazes, and it warmed me.
We finally got back to the room, I hadn't eaten for hours, was sleep deprived and in post traumatic shock, when suddenly I felt as though I could lose consciousness and I started having small, trembling convulsions. Turtle went on to have the biggest freak out session he has ever had in his life. I've never seen any of my kids like that. His body broke out in a rash and he burst blood vessels on his face. His screams were so sharp they sliced through the room like a hot knife through butter. And he deserved to express every decibel of it. Intermittently, a caring nurse or volunteer would pop their head in to see if we were ok and ask if we needed anything. I just held him, apologized to him and sobbed my heart out. It seemed at that moment, everyone wanted to call us and I had to answer a number of phone calls before eventually switching off one phone and take the other off the hook. The stress and tension in the room was so thick you could karate kick it. I tried in vain to comfort him, but he cried and hit me in the shoulder, expressing his dissatisfaction that I had joined forces with the dark side, leaving him defenseless, standing alone on the side of justice.
After I begged with desperation in my red protruding eyes and urgency forcing through my vocal chords to be able to breastfeed him they allowed me, and eventually he settled down.
Just in time for someone to come in and say the x-ray showed the PICC needed redone. So we went through it all again and through the walk to and from the x ray again. It was every bit as painful but we were both numb. We went through the emotions, the sobbing, I felt like Judas, and we sort of floated above ourselves while it all played out.
A few rude interventions later, we were handed discharge forms to sign. I signed with much enthusiasm. The whole ride home I was just talking a hundred miles an hour, filling Rene in on much of what he had missed, and trying to come down from it all. I still have a lot of it to exhale, but I'm starting to realize we really are home and it really is over.
The nurse came to our home to show us how to administer his medication in his IV line. He has to have 6 treatments a day, 30 minutes each. We won't have much of a social life for a few weeks. They are intimidating and scary, but I am sure it will become habitual in time. He has an imobalizer on his leg and isn't supposed to bare weight on it for a while. If we can stop him, that is. While we recover and get used to the medicine regime we won't have to worry about meals for a while, because an awesome friend set up a mealtrain for us, online where people are signing up and bringing us meals. What a huge relief that is! We spent more than our month's worth of grocery budget just travelling to and from Omaha and grabbing fast food on the way etc. Every meal helps a bunch! We are so grateful.
I've been reflecting on our looong week and some blessings that have come about.
- The support from friends has been encouraging
- I had a lot of time to bond with Turtle, with no distractions
- I watched Rene bond with the girls and watch them turn to him when they have needs
- I felt so loved by Rene to see how dedicated he was to being mum, dad, wage earner, food preparer, taxi cab, husband, supporter, house keeper all by himself. Occasionally he slept a little too. Obviously he loves us all very much. He really held us all together
- I learned a lot about surrendering, giving up control and trusting in God
- We survived another trial, and it strengthened us
- I finished New Moon and started on Eclipse :) (Twilight series)
And best blessing of all, he's going to be ok and we're home.
I've got to get photoshop installed on this laptop!
Then they had to put his PICC in. Unfortunately the floor got really busy so we had to try to make a sterile environment in his own crib and go ahead and do the procedure there. When the oxygen monitor that had been working fine the whole stay suddenly wouldn't respond at all, I wondered if it were a bad omen. They were able to bring in a portable one so we got ready to go again. Then his IV suddenly was blocked and they couldn't give him medication. *sigh* They all left for a lunch break and gave Turtle oral medication, which would take longer and be less effective.
He didn't enjoy the PICC placement at all. It's so hard to watch your little one cry so, and participate in holding him down and wonder whether he'll ever forgive you. But that was nothing compared to what happened next.
He had to go down to radiology to have his chest x-rayed to check that the PICC was in correctly. They still hadn't taken Turtle off isolation, although they had planned to, the Dr who needed to sign it off was in surgery. So, since Turtle won't keep a mask on his face, they had to put a blanket over his head for the journey. No, correction, *I* had to keep a blanket over his head for the journey. My poor boy, who hadn't been allowed food or water for 6 hours, who didn't understand why I was letting people do these horrible things to him, who's heart broke everytime he signed for milk and I said "it's all done right now", fought me the whole loooong journey to radiology, he struggled to rip the blanket off his face. And everytime he ripped it off, the lady accompanying me scolded me to put it back over him. He cried his eyes out and I have never done anything that so opposed my instincts before in my life. Jumping off a plane without a parachute would have been easier to talk myself into doing. Forcing a blanket over my crying, starving, frightened baby's head while he struggled for air and to see where he was going was stupid and cruel and deeply disturbing.
When we finally arrived at radiology I was quick to remove the piece of fabric that I had torchered my innocent son with, looked guiltily into his eyes, seeing betrayal in the reflection and whispered a plea for forgiveness in his ear. He hadn't come down from that trauma yet when the radiologist asked me to hold him down in an uncomfortable position to get the xray picture.
By this point, Turtle had just had enough. He had been so tolerant his whole hospital trip. He'd had a full savings account of love and tender touch to sustain him and he tolerated everything quite well. The nurses had been saying he was their best patients ever. Drs and anesthetists wandered up from another floor when their shift ended just to say bye to him, because they all had fallen in love with him. He was the sweet, adorable boy with the peaceful temperament, cute blonde hair who had entertained them all with funny faces, adorable noises and affections. But his tolerance had just ran dry. He was tired, hungry, sore, confused, scared and so weary.
I dreaded the moment that came all too soon, when they said, "put this blanket over his head and we'll walk you back". This time was a hundred times worse than the last. He was sobbing from the depths of his soul and my face was red, puffy and soaked with tears. He begged me with his wailing, to let him breath real air, to let him see the room, to have some dignity. Inspired by his natural survival instinct, he used all his strength against my own to try free himself of this cover that was forcing him to re-breathe his own carbon dioxide. The lady accompanying us (I'm not sure if she was a nurse or what?) was not very compassionate and insisted on waiting for an elevator that was empty, since his blanket was constantly being pulled off. I was trying to keep pulling it over his head while my arms ached from the struggle and my heart screamed at me to stop.
She let every stinkin' elevator go without getting on it, because it was busy and there were people in them all. I have never been so close to having a breakdown. I was past my limit. I turned to her, tears streaming down my face while my hands forced this evil blanket to hide the most beautiful boy face, and I confessed, "I can't do this to him anymore.". She had a worried look on her face that suggested she was considering calling security. I stared at a nearby exit and prayed God would help me control my impulse to take my son and run for it. I very nearly did. I knew I wouldn't get far. But I couldn't stay in this hell, playing the roll of Satan. I almost threw the blanket at her and said "YOU keep the stupid blanket on his head". My lips took the form of the first word while I gathered up enough strength to stop myself from being so rude. Instead, I flung a "This is so stupid! He's not even supposed to be in isolation anymore, they just haven't got round to removing it. His cultures were negative and they never proved he had anything. He's so tiny and has been through enough" at her. She gulped and crinkled her face but said nothing. I shivered with cold, and would swear that anyone standing so close to her would be able to see their own breath. She was like a pillar of ice.
When the next elevator came, it was full of people and I knew she wouldn't take it. So I concluded *she* didn't have to take it, but Glenn and I sure as heck were gonna. She sheepishly followed me and uttered a disclaimer to the other people in the elevator, that he is in seclusion and isn't fully covered. No body cared. They saw this poor boy, flailing as though he were struggling for life and his mother, the perpetrator, completely beside herself in anguish while she commits this crime, unwillingly. I felt compassion in their gazes, and it warmed me.
We finally got back to the room, I hadn't eaten for hours, was sleep deprived and in post traumatic shock, when suddenly I felt as though I could lose consciousness and I started having small, trembling convulsions. Turtle went on to have the biggest freak out session he has ever had in his life. I've never seen any of my kids like that. His body broke out in a rash and he burst blood vessels on his face. His screams were so sharp they sliced through the room like a hot knife through butter. And he deserved to express every decibel of it. Intermittently, a caring nurse or volunteer would pop their head in to see if we were ok and ask if we needed anything. I just held him, apologized to him and sobbed my heart out. It seemed at that moment, everyone wanted to call us and I had to answer a number of phone calls before eventually switching off one phone and take the other off the hook. The stress and tension in the room was so thick you could karate kick it. I tried in vain to comfort him, but he cried and hit me in the shoulder, expressing his dissatisfaction that I had joined forces with the dark side, leaving him defenseless, standing alone on the side of justice.
After I begged with desperation in my red protruding eyes and urgency forcing through my vocal chords to be able to breastfeed him they allowed me, and eventually he settled down.
Just in time for someone to come in and say the x-ray showed the PICC needed redone. So we went through it all again and through the walk to and from the x ray again. It was every bit as painful but we were both numb. We went through the emotions, the sobbing, I felt like Judas, and we sort of floated above ourselves while it all played out.
A few rude interventions later, we were handed discharge forms to sign. I signed with much enthusiasm. The whole ride home I was just talking a hundred miles an hour, filling Rene in on much of what he had missed, and trying to come down from it all. I still have a lot of it to exhale, but I'm starting to realize we really are home and it really is over.
The nurse came to our home to show us how to administer his medication in his IV line. He has to have 6 treatments a day, 30 minutes each. We won't have much of a social life for a few weeks. They are intimidating and scary, but I am sure it will become habitual in time. He has an imobalizer on his leg and isn't supposed to bare weight on it for a while. If we can stop him, that is. While we recover and get used to the medicine regime we won't have to worry about meals for a while, because an awesome friend set up a mealtrain for us, online where people are signing up and bringing us meals. What a huge relief that is! We spent more than our month's worth of grocery budget just travelling to and from Omaha and grabbing fast food on the way etc. Every meal helps a bunch! We are so grateful.
I've been reflecting on our looong week and some blessings that have come about.
- The support from friends has been encouraging
- I had a lot of time to bond with Turtle, with no distractions
- I watched Rene bond with the girls and watch them turn to him when they have needs
- I felt so loved by Rene to see how dedicated he was to being mum, dad, wage earner, food preparer, taxi cab, husband, supporter, house keeper all by himself. Occasionally he slept a little too. Obviously he loves us all very much. He really held us all together
- I learned a lot about surrendering, giving up control and trusting in God
- We survived another trial, and it strengthened us
- I finished New Moon and started on Eclipse :) (Twilight series)
And best blessing of all, he's going to be ok and we're home.
I've got to get photoshop installed on this laptop!
Friday, February 26, 2010
So far so good...
Still no fevers! He had one low grade fever just below the cut off point. They are planning to take him to get the PICC in today at 11.30 which means maybe home tomorrow!! Possibly even today. This is the first I've heard them throw around the word "home" so much. I'm so excited I had to post. This has been a loooong few days and I'm so ready to get home.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
God answers prayers!
We've been so overwhelmed with support. People bringing gift boxes and food and flowers and arranging meals. Kind messages. And most of all prayers. My boy has been added to so many prayer chains and personal prayer lists. It's very touching. We are grateful. And God is listening.
Turtle went under the knife again today and apparently there is not much pus left to drain. Dr thinks he got it all. There is still a chance Glenn might need repeat surgery to drain his thigh because there was some up there that he couldn't reach, but they hope it won't be necessary. The cultures are still inconclusive so they are starting new ones. And they are baffled by it. They're holding meetings to all talk about it because they've never seen this before. But, whatever it is, it seems that the antibiotics are killing it! Thanks God! He's fighting it and getting better.
We're still in isolation, but it all looks like there's a light at the end of the tunnel. As soon as we are fever free for 48 hours they will put in his PICC and we're good to go. Still doesn't look like we'll be home this weekend but maybe early next week.
For now, he is in a leftover drug induced deep sleep on my right arm, making my fingers go numb but I daren't move him. He looks like an angel, all wrapped up in his pastel yellow blanket with his long lashes kissing his chubby little cheeks while he meows in his sleep. No I didn't intend to say "purrs" but messed up. He is actually meowing in his sleep. Good dream I guess. He keeps my mouth upturned and my spirits uplifted for sure.
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Quick update...there is a *chance* he might get the PICC in tomorrow and discharge on Saturday. So far no fever, but the surgery today might yet cause a spike...We really don't want it to! Not that it would be anything to worry about, but it would delay hometime. I'm getting my hopes up now....
Turtle went under the knife again today and apparently there is not much pus left to drain. Dr thinks he got it all. There is still a chance Glenn might need repeat surgery to drain his thigh because there was some up there that he couldn't reach, but they hope it won't be necessary. The cultures are still inconclusive so they are starting new ones. And they are baffled by it. They're holding meetings to all talk about it because they've never seen this before. But, whatever it is, it seems that the antibiotics are killing it! Thanks God! He's fighting it and getting better.
We're still in isolation, but it all looks like there's a light at the end of the tunnel. As soon as we are fever free for 48 hours they will put in his PICC and we're good to go. Still doesn't look like we'll be home this weekend but maybe early next week.
For now, he is in a leftover drug induced deep sleep on my right arm, making my fingers go numb but I daren't move him. He looks like an angel, all wrapped up in his pastel yellow blanket with his long lashes kissing his chubby little cheeks while he meows in his sleep. No I didn't intend to say "purrs" but messed up. He is actually meowing in his sleep. Good dream I guess. He keeps my mouth upturned and my spirits uplifted for sure.
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Quick update...there is a *chance* he might get the PICC in tomorrow and discharge on Saturday. So far no fever, but the surgery today might yet cause a spike...We really don't want it to! Not that it would be anything to worry about, but it would delay hometime. I'm getting my hopes up now....
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
I guess there was a moral to the story after all
Remember this post?
Turns out my instincts were right after all. He did have something very wrong with his leg, and there wasn't an accident or something that I missed.
The story starts Thursday night. He started limping again and complaining that he was sore. Since the ER had said it was probably a muscle strain and they could do nothing we decided on Friday to call and make an appointment with a chiropractor. The appointment was set for Tuesday. But by Saturday morning it was still sore and we thought it seemed more serious than just a muscle pain. So we took him to the walk in clinic.
A few hours of chasing incredibly ansty kids around the waiting room later and an uncomfortable blood test later we were sent home with a prescription for amoxycilin.
By Sunday he couldn't bare weight on it and it was swelling and red and hot and he was getting fevers which came and went. We watched him carefully all day and by evening we decided it was just getting worse, so we took him in to the ER.
ER was busy. Zoe and busy ER waiting rooms don't go well together, so we learned. We got there at 6.30 pm and he was finally taken through to be seen at 9pm. In the interim Zoe had crawled under chairs, messed with people's catheters, ran out the front doors, jumped off of tables, upturned tables, climbed up walls, rattled door handles, pulled emergency cables in the bathroom, screamed her head off and continuously bolted down the hospital corridor. She is much faster than her fat, unfit mother and it must be highly amusing to watch me flop around with a red frustrated face while I do my very darnest to run as fast as I can down this very long corridor, reaching my hand out in front of me, inches away from catching her, Zoe flying a couple paces ahead of me with a look of utter excitement and laughing an evil laugh, soaking up the thrill of the chase all the while.
When they called "Glenn" at 9pm we were so relieved. Rene had the privilege of remaining with the 3 girls in the waiting room while I sat in the chair in the ER ward with a sleeping baby, waiting for the Drs to come. They did some more xrays and took some more blood, then at midnight they told us we'd have to transfer to the ER at the Children's hospital in Omaha. I was a little shocked to be honest.
We carted 3 exhausted, hungry (hadn't had supper), confused kids in the car and started our 75 minute journey into Omaha. When we got there, Rene sat with the girls in the waiting room again, but this time they were all sleeping and it was much easier!! By 4am we were admitted and the other half of my family went to spend the night in the rainbow house nearby.
Turns out he has a violent bacterial infection in his knee. They were concerned that it had been going on for 3 weeks and one major worry was that he'd have permanent damage to his cartilage. Monday afternoon he went under general anesthetic and they did an MRI on his tissue and then cut open his knee to remove as much pus as they could and then inserted a drainage tube.
Rene and the kids were back in Lincoln gathering some supplies. He had the day off on Monday but his PTO is all used up. So we knew he'd have to return to work. I was hoping at first that this would be like an outpatient thing, they'd drain it then send us home. I sat in the waiting room while he had the surgery. I haven't felt so alone in a long time. I am used to constantly having a huge to do list with usually 4-5 things on that list at any given time that are of utmost urgency, or at least appear that way to young children. I am used to always having a sock to pick up or a drink to pour or a bum to wipe or someone who needs a hug or a fight to break up or a spilled box of cereal to sweep up...you get the picture.
Suddenly my girls weren't there. My soul mate wasn't there. And my boy was being cut open. He had been poked and prodded so much by this point and had looked up at me with begging eyes while men and women with coats poked and prodded and hurt him, and we were both starting to grow slightly desensitized to that palaver. They had given him a relaxant before they took him away and it made him "drunk". He gazed up at me and laughed his head off. His laughter was contagious. He had no idea what was about to happen to him and my laughter was accompanied by involuntary tears. But his giggling, happy, woozy face was beautiful. And then I had to walk away. Walk away from my handsome, little, euphoric comedian, walk through the double doors, around the corner down the elevator and into a waiting room and sit. And wait. There was a TV on which irritated me, so I sat at the other side of the room, with a fish tank and I made many cups of coffee (Yes, I hate coffee, but I was tired and I needed something to mess with) and watched the fish and tried to let my mind go numb. I heard other families talk about the horrible things they are going through with their kids' long term conditions and I was so thankful that this is not as serious. And I was in awe at their strength. They all talked so matter of fact while their kids were in surgery for the umpteenth time and here I felt like the lonliness and fear and lack of control in this situation was crushing my lungs.
I paced the floor a couple of times in the few hours I was down there, but mostly, I just sat and watched the fish. I prayed. And I waited. And then the surgeon came to talk to me. He took me into the little room and explained how the procedure went. They think they got all the pus but they are not sure, there are some pockets left. I stared into the surgeon's clear eyes while he explained it to me in a velvety, hypnotic voice and I nodded. It all seemed to make sense. We won't be certain for a while, but it looks as though there is no cartilage damage. That's very good news. There were excessive amounts of white blood cells and the infection looks aggressive. They are suspicious it might be STAPH/MRSA (superbug) but it might possibly be kingella. It will take a few days to get cultures back until we know for certain, so we will treat for both just now. I flinched a little at hearing MRSA. I nodded and took it all in and figured I'd deal with the emotion aspect later on, when I'm alone again. Suddenly I really wanted to be alone. He continued speaking about plans of action and technicalities that I tried to grasp but the words were flying all over the place by now and my internal dialog was getting obnoxiously loud.
And then he said, "so he'll be staying here for 4-5 days minimum, ok?". My cool, calm, monotone "OK" was automatic but came out so fast and forcedly that it was obviously a lie. I was not ok. My head started to spin and the previous night's lack of sleep all hit me at once. The room was very bright and I was suddenly aware of the rhythm of my heart pounding through my chest. I focussed all my energy on getting through the rest of the conversation. Just make it through this discussion without looking like a fool. I couldn't really hear anything else he said. He got up and held to door for me. I thanked him and walked towards to box of tissues on the desk at the other side of the room. As soon as I had taken 3 steps the tears started rolling, silently. I felt eyes burning into me from all over the waiting room. Eyes of parents who are going through far worse than we are, and are holding it together much better than I am. I finally made it to the tissues, forcing my gullet to be silent and putting my energy into keeping my lungs from heaving. The box was empty. "There's another box over there maam", said the Dad who was waiting to hear if his daughter has Cycstic Fibrosis. "Keep it in perspective Niecey", I told myself.
I grabbed a handful of tissues from the other box and bolted to the ladies room where I cried my eyes out. The kind of cry that feels like an abdominal work out. It's not just from the eyes or the lungs. The kind of cry that makes other people in the ladies room wonder what the heck is going on in there. The kind of cry that leaves your eyes looking like someone removed them, dropped them in acid for a few minutes them put them back in place and it takes at least an hour before they go back to their normal color. I cried and I contemplated who we could ask to look after my girls while Rene was at work. I imagined them going to bed without their customary kisses and cuddles and stories from Mum. I asked God to help me get through the next 4-5 days only seeing my beautiful girls for 1-2 hours in the evening. Then I toughened myself up and committed to just coping with this an hour at a time.
And that's where we're at now. The kids are with our awesome, amazing neighbor through the day, then Daddy picks them up, grabs supper and comes out to see us for about 1.5 hours before heading home and crashing out. Everyone is tired. We are still waiting for cultures to see if this is MRSA or not. He is in isolation here, so everyone has to wear masks and vests. They are going to put a PICC IV in him, but haven't been able to get his temp low enough to do it yet. And he might need another MRI and drainage surgery tomorrow.
Ever since we turned the calendar page to February, Zoe has been counting down the days until her birthday. She had the order of events all planned out and told me about it multiple times a day. "I will wake up then open my pwesents. Then we going to a pirate show, then we can come home and have Strawberry Shortcake cake with Strawberry Shortcake and Custard and Friends and a rock." She's been so excited and I've been playing it up big time too. I wanted to make a huge deal out of it to help her know how special she is to me. And now I might not even be there. She turns 3 on Sunday. We are considering postponing her birthday without letting her know. I'm not sure ethically how that would sit....
I miss them so badly, I long to be running around pulling my hair out over Zoe and her mischief. It drives me wild sometimes, but the girls are my life.
Turtle is in very high spirits today. They took him off fluids because he's keeping foods down and he's no longer on all the monitors. If he gets the surgery again tomorrow he'll be hooked up to everything again, but for now he's free and I can hold him and feed him. He has a huge cast thing on his leg so it's awkward, but it's not hurting him too bad. And we're just waiting. Waiting to find out which bacteria it is for sure. Waiting to see if the treatment is working or if the bacteria is spreading. Waiting to see when we get to go home.
Prayers would be much appreciated. They are not too worried about him, he's certainly not in critical care. But it could get serious. It's aggressive and they are treating it aggressively. Specifically I'd love prayers that the antibiotics will work, that he won't have any more fever today so he can get the PICC line in tomorrow (otherwise they have to wait and each day means an extra day we have to stay here), that I will be able to handle the hospital stay, emotionally and that Rene and the girls will be happy and sleep well.
Thanks for reading this. I mostly typed it up for my own benefit. To help me process it. I see so many sick kids around me and I am reminded how blessed we are to have the health we have. I hate missing the girls and I hate seeing my poor boy as helpless as he is here.
But we'll get through. He's a tough kid, and has such a gentle spirit. It will help him heal. And so will the prayers and the love. I am not leaving his side.
Turns out my instincts were right after all. He did have something very wrong with his leg, and there wasn't an accident or something that I missed.
The story starts Thursday night. He started limping again and complaining that he was sore. Since the ER had said it was probably a muscle strain and they could do nothing we decided on Friday to call and make an appointment with a chiropractor. The appointment was set for Tuesday. But by Saturday morning it was still sore and we thought it seemed more serious than just a muscle pain. So we took him to the walk in clinic.
A few hours of chasing incredibly ansty kids around the waiting room later and an uncomfortable blood test later we were sent home with a prescription for amoxycilin.
By Sunday he couldn't bare weight on it and it was swelling and red and hot and he was getting fevers which came and went. We watched him carefully all day and by evening we decided it was just getting worse, so we took him in to the ER.
ER was busy. Zoe and busy ER waiting rooms don't go well together, so we learned. We got there at 6.30 pm and he was finally taken through to be seen at 9pm. In the interim Zoe had crawled under chairs, messed with people's catheters, ran out the front doors, jumped off of tables, upturned tables, climbed up walls, rattled door handles, pulled emergency cables in the bathroom, screamed her head off and continuously bolted down the hospital corridor. She is much faster than her fat, unfit mother and it must be highly amusing to watch me flop around with a red frustrated face while I do my very darnest to run as fast as I can down this very long corridor, reaching my hand out in front of me, inches away from catching her, Zoe flying a couple paces ahead of me with a look of utter excitement and laughing an evil laugh, soaking up the thrill of the chase all the while.
When they called "Glenn" at 9pm we were so relieved. Rene had the privilege of remaining with the 3 girls in the waiting room while I sat in the chair in the ER ward with a sleeping baby, waiting for the Drs to come. They did some more xrays and took some more blood, then at midnight they told us we'd have to transfer to the ER at the Children's hospital in Omaha. I was a little shocked to be honest.
We carted 3 exhausted, hungry (hadn't had supper), confused kids in the car and started our 75 minute journey into Omaha. When we got there, Rene sat with the girls in the waiting room again, but this time they were all sleeping and it was much easier!! By 4am we were admitted and the other half of my family went to spend the night in the rainbow house nearby.
Turns out he has a violent bacterial infection in his knee. They were concerned that it had been going on for 3 weeks and one major worry was that he'd have permanent damage to his cartilage. Monday afternoon he went under general anesthetic and they did an MRI on his tissue and then cut open his knee to remove as much pus as they could and then inserted a drainage tube.
Rene and the kids were back in Lincoln gathering some supplies. He had the day off on Monday but his PTO is all used up. So we knew he'd have to return to work. I was hoping at first that this would be like an outpatient thing, they'd drain it then send us home. I sat in the waiting room while he had the surgery. I haven't felt so alone in a long time. I am used to constantly having a huge to do list with usually 4-5 things on that list at any given time that are of utmost urgency, or at least appear that way to young children. I am used to always having a sock to pick up or a drink to pour or a bum to wipe or someone who needs a hug or a fight to break up or a spilled box of cereal to sweep up...you get the picture.
Suddenly my girls weren't there. My soul mate wasn't there. And my boy was being cut open. He had been poked and prodded so much by this point and had looked up at me with begging eyes while men and women with coats poked and prodded and hurt him, and we were both starting to grow slightly desensitized to that palaver. They had given him a relaxant before they took him away and it made him "drunk". He gazed up at me and laughed his head off. His laughter was contagious. He had no idea what was about to happen to him and my laughter was accompanied by involuntary tears. But his giggling, happy, woozy face was beautiful. And then I had to walk away. Walk away from my handsome, little, euphoric comedian, walk through the double doors, around the corner down the elevator and into a waiting room and sit. And wait. There was a TV on which irritated me, so I sat at the other side of the room, with a fish tank and I made many cups of coffee (Yes, I hate coffee, but I was tired and I needed something to mess with) and watched the fish and tried to let my mind go numb. I heard other families talk about the horrible things they are going through with their kids' long term conditions and I was so thankful that this is not as serious. And I was in awe at their strength. They all talked so matter of fact while their kids were in surgery for the umpteenth time and here I felt like the lonliness and fear and lack of control in this situation was crushing my lungs.
I paced the floor a couple of times in the few hours I was down there, but mostly, I just sat and watched the fish. I prayed. And I waited. And then the surgeon came to talk to me. He took me into the little room and explained how the procedure went. They think they got all the pus but they are not sure, there are some pockets left. I stared into the surgeon's clear eyes while he explained it to me in a velvety, hypnotic voice and I nodded. It all seemed to make sense. We won't be certain for a while, but it looks as though there is no cartilage damage. That's very good news. There were excessive amounts of white blood cells and the infection looks aggressive. They are suspicious it might be STAPH/MRSA (superbug) but it might possibly be kingella. It will take a few days to get cultures back until we know for certain, so we will treat for both just now. I flinched a little at hearing MRSA. I nodded and took it all in and figured I'd deal with the emotion aspect later on, when I'm alone again. Suddenly I really wanted to be alone. He continued speaking about plans of action and technicalities that I tried to grasp but the words were flying all over the place by now and my internal dialog was getting obnoxiously loud.
And then he said, "so he'll be staying here for 4-5 days minimum, ok?". My cool, calm, monotone "OK" was automatic but came out so fast and forcedly that it was obviously a lie. I was not ok. My head started to spin and the previous night's lack of sleep all hit me at once. The room was very bright and I was suddenly aware of the rhythm of my heart pounding through my chest. I focussed all my energy on getting through the rest of the conversation. Just make it through this discussion without looking like a fool. I couldn't really hear anything else he said. He got up and held to door for me. I thanked him and walked towards to box of tissues on the desk at the other side of the room. As soon as I had taken 3 steps the tears started rolling, silently. I felt eyes burning into me from all over the waiting room. Eyes of parents who are going through far worse than we are, and are holding it together much better than I am. I finally made it to the tissues, forcing my gullet to be silent and putting my energy into keeping my lungs from heaving. The box was empty. "There's another box over there maam", said the Dad who was waiting to hear if his daughter has Cycstic Fibrosis. "Keep it in perspective Niecey", I told myself.
I grabbed a handful of tissues from the other box and bolted to the ladies room where I cried my eyes out. The kind of cry that feels like an abdominal work out. It's not just from the eyes or the lungs. The kind of cry that makes other people in the ladies room wonder what the heck is going on in there. The kind of cry that leaves your eyes looking like someone removed them, dropped them in acid for a few minutes them put them back in place and it takes at least an hour before they go back to their normal color. I cried and I contemplated who we could ask to look after my girls while Rene was at work. I imagined them going to bed without their customary kisses and cuddles and stories from Mum. I asked God to help me get through the next 4-5 days only seeing my beautiful girls for 1-2 hours in the evening. Then I toughened myself up and committed to just coping with this an hour at a time.
And that's where we're at now. The kids are with our awesome, amazing neighbor through the day, then Daddy picks them up, grabs supper and comes out to see us for about 1.5 hours before heading home and crashing out. Everyone is tired. We are still waiting for cultures to see if this is MRSA or not. He is in isolation here, so everyone has to wear masks and vests. They are going to put a PICC IV in him, but haven't been able to get his temp low enough to do it yet. And he might need another MRI and drainage surgery tomorrow.
Ever since we turned the calendar page to February, Zoe has been counting down the days until her birthday. She had the order of events all planned out and told me about it multiple times a day. "I will wake up then open my pwesents. Then we going to a pirate show, then we can come home and have Strawberry Shortcake cake with Strawberry Shortcake and Custard and Friends and a rock." She's been so excited and I've been playing it up big time too. I wanted to make a huge deal out of it to help her know how special she is to me. And now I might not even be there. She turns 3 on Sunday. We are considering postponing her birthday without letting her know. I'm not sure ethically how that would sit....
I miss them so badly, I long to be running around pulling my hair out over Zoe and her mischief. It drives me wild sometimes, but the girls are my life.
Turtle is in very high spirits today. They took him off fluids because he's keeping foods down and he's no longer on all the monitors. If he gets the surgery again tomorrow he'll be hooked up to everything again, but for now he's free and I can hold him and feed him. He has a huge cast thing on his leg so it's awkward, but it's not hurting him too bad. And we're just waiting. Waiting to find out which bacteria it is for sure. Waiting to see if the treatment is working or if the bacteria is spreading. Waiting to see when we get to go home.
Prayers would be much appreciated. They are not too worried about him, he's certainly not in critical care. But it could get serious. It's aggressive and they are treating it aggressively. Specifically I'd love prayers that the antibiotics will work, that he won't have any more fever today so he can get the PICC line in tomorrow (otherwise they have to wait and each day means an extra day we have to stay here), that I will be able to handle the hospital stay, emotionally and that Rene and the girls will be happy and sleep well.
Thanks for reading this. I mostly typed it up for my own benefit. To help me process it. I see so many sick kids around me and I am reminded how blessed we are to have the health we have. I hate missing the girls and I hate seeing my poor boy as helpless as he is here.
But we'll get through. He's a tough kid, and has such a gentle spirit. It will help him heal. And so will the prayers and the love. I am not leaving his side.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
instinct schminstinct
I've always been a huge advocate of mothers following their own instincts.
I had a bad day for that yesterday. Well, starting Monday really. About midday Turtle started to get really upset. I figured he was grizzly and needing a nap. He often naps around that time. so I laid down beside him and nursed him and patted his tummy. He gradually became increasingly upset. An hour into it his back was arched and he was high pitched screaming. This was not a happy boy.
I had changed his diaper and he was rashy, so I thought maybe this was why he was upset. I patiently patted him and help him and told him it's ok. Eventually he fell asleep....for about 20 mins then started back up again. For the next 24 hours he pretty much cried for 5 mins, then tried to sleep for 5 mins. He wouldn't eat but was nursing.
Because he was so upset, I was carrying him or laying beside him the whole time. He was up almost all night crying and saying "ow ow ow". He was signing sore, too. I assumed he was getting this sinus/ear infection we had. I gave him tylenol but it didn't seem to help.
Looking back now, I'm kicking myself that I didn't check him all over. Why wouldn't I do that? What kind of mother am I?
He had a moment of calm at about 11am yesterday and I sat him in his high chair and he ate some breakfast. When he was done I placed him on the floor. The first time he had been put down since the day before! And he started crying and limping towards me. Oh. Darn. Why didn't I think to check his legs?! Poor guys has been suffering pain in his leg this whole time! So I laid him down and tried moving his legs around. He wasn't tolerating bending his left leg and he'd cry "ow ow ow" when I tried to move it. I stood him on the floor again and he reached for the wall to help himself limp along, then collapsed on the floor.
So I called Rene and he came home. My awesome neighbor looked after the girls (seriously, I hardly trust my kids with anyone, but she is fab) and we took the wee laddy to ER. I was certain it was broken because it reminded me so much of when Lana broke hers.
And I beat myself up for not even noticing how it happened, and not realizing he needed help.
A few hours, blood tests and xrays later we were told he didn't have a fracture nor an infection and he probably just strained a muscle. We went home feeling so confused and by evening he was waddling about all over the place. He almost walks perfectly on it by today.
So I was wrong twice. So much for mothers intuition. *sigh*
I don't really know what the moral of the story is, though I'm sure there must be one somewhere...I guess it's spend less time online and more with your kids so you notice if they get hurt. (D'oh.)
------
In other news, I was interested to read about the latest SIDS research released today. Sounds like we might be getting somewhere. It's not the first to suggest a link between SIDS babies and low seratonin levels, which effects respiratory and heart regulation. Helps explain why soft bedding is a no no and why you should always sleep baby on their backs. I pray we can figure this whole thing out and then start work on prevention.
I had a bad day for that yesterday. Well, starting Monday really. About midday Turtle started to get really upset. I figured he was grizzly and needing a nap. He often naps around that time. so I laid down beside him and nursed him and patted his tummy. He gradually became increasingly upset. An hour into it his back was arched and he was high pitched screaming. This was not a happy boy.
I had changed his diaper and he was rashy, so I thought maybe this was why he was upset. I patiently patted him and help him and told him it's ok. Eventually he fell asleep....for about 20 mins then started back up again. For the next 24 hours he pretty much cried for 5 mins, then tried to sleep for 5 mins. He wouldn't eat but was nursing.
Because he was so upset, I was carrying him or laying beside him the whole time. He was up almost all night crying and saying "ow ow ow". He was signing sore, too. I assumed he was getting this sinus/ear infection we had. I gave him tylenol but it didn't seem to help.
Looking back now, I'm kicking myself that I didn't check him all over. Why wouldn't I do that? What kind of mother am I?
He had a moment of calm at about 11am yesterday and I sat him in his high chair and he ate some breakfast. When he was done I placed him on the floor. The first time he had been put down since the day before! And he started crying and limping towards me. Oh. Darn. Why didn't I think to check his legs?! Poor guys has been suffering pain in his leg this whole time! So I laid him down and tried moving his legs around. He wasn't tolerating bending his left leg and he'd cry "ow ow ow" when I tried to move it. I stood him on the floor again and he reached for the wall to help himself limp along, then collapsed on the floor.
So I called Rene and he came home. My awesome neighbor looked after the girls (seriously, I hardly trust my kids with anyone, but she is fab) and we took the wee laddy to ER. I was certain it was broken because it reminded me so much of when Lana broke hers.
And I beat myself up for not even noticing how it happened, and not realizing he needed help.
A few hours, blood tests and xrays later we were told he didn't have a fracture nor an infection and he probably just strained a muscle. We went home feeling so confused and by evening he was waddling about all over the place. He almost walks perfectly on it by today.
So I was wrong twice. So much for mothers intuition. *sigh*
I don't really know what the moral of the story is, though I'm sure there must be one somewhere...I guess it's spend less time online and more with your kids so you notice if they get hurt. (D'oh.)
------
In other news, I was interested to read about the latest SIDS research released today. Sounds like we might be getting somewhere. It's not the first to suggest a link between SIDS babies and low seratonin levels, which effects respiratory and heart regulation. Helps explain why soft bedding is a no no and why you should always sleep baby on their backs. I pray we can figure this whole thing out and then start work on prevention.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
I love you - or not (Tot Talk Tuesday)
Labels:
Glenn,
tot talk tuesdays,
video
Turtle says "I love you". It sounds more like "ah wuwoo" and my brother says it reminds him of those youtube videos of talking dogs. But it's close enough to the real thing to completely melt my heart.
I've been desperately trying to get him to perform this for the camera, but he will not cooperate. I've taken 6 video clips today of me constantly saying I love you to him and pulling his thumb out of his mouth and trying to get him to say it back. This boy says I love you about 10 times a day. Especially when I'm putting the girls to bed. But he won't do it for the camera.
So here's the closest thing I got. On Christmas night, with his thumb in his mouth and he said it sooo half heartedly. Oh well, it's better than nothing.
And for your amusement, here's a talking dog from youtube
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Read what a Tot Talk Tuesday is and how you can join in here, remember to include the following code in your blog
And please do join in! The more the merrier!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Turtle's reflection on Christmas
Try to tell me he's not the cutest boy ever.
We had a fun day. The kids did very well with it all. A couple minor melt downs, but nothing unexpected. I'm blessed.
We had a fun day. The kids did very well with it all. A couple minor melt downs, but nothing unexpected. I'm blessed.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Just like his sister
Turtle and Zoe are starting to become quite the monkey duo. Like today, they took out all our killer bunnies cards, including expansion packs and dice and pawns and chucked them all over the floor. Zoe instigates and Turtle follows and chuckles and copies. I have seen him lead her to trouble also. Like a couple days ago he started picking up random objects, chucking them down the stairs and laughing his head off. Zoe was enticed by his amusement at the activity and she jumped right in on the action.
Wherever Zoe is found in our wee house, Turtle will likely be found waddling a few steps behind her, admiring her and imitating her. I'd think it was sweet if she weren't such a terrible influence on the lad.
Today he found her dress on the floor and was thrilled at the opportunity to be more like his idol. He brought the dress to me, and urged me to put it on him with little thrusty bounces and grunts, 1 year old style.
So I put it on, and he was in heaven. Twirling and prancing and letting it flow. He apparently felt so pretty, just like his big sister. He wouldn't let me take it off for hours. I had to take a pic, but since my only two lenses which work indoor have tragically broken (I am deeply grieving), I took pics with my webcam instead. So please excuse the quality.
He does make for one bee-ooooootiful little boy, doesn't he?
Wherever Zoe is found in our wee house, Turtle will likely be found waddling a few steps behind her, admiring her and imitating her. I'd think it was sweet if she weren't such a terrible influence on the lad.
Today he found her dress on the floor and was thrilled at the opportunity to be more like his idol. He brought the dress to me, and urged me to put it on him with little thrusty bounces and grunts, 1 year old style.
So I put it on, and he was in heaven. Twirling and prancing and letting it flow. He apparently felt so pretty, just like his big sister. He wouldn't let me take it off for hours. I had to take a pic, but since my only two lenses which work indoor have tragically broken (I am deeply grieving), I took pics with my webcam instead. So please excuse the quality.
He does make for one bee-ooooootiful little boy, doesn't he?
Monday, November 2, 2009
Need.More.Sleep
Labels:
Glenn
So tired. Turtle is snuffly and teething right now. He has two at the top poking through and two at the bottom making their way there (and has 4 teeth already fully grown).
And he will just not sleep at night. He was a fantastic sleeper from day one. But he's making up for it now. I've had 3 nights in a row of him just screaming at me all night. Honestly, I'm not exaggerating. He is just plain mad at me all night long. I get 45 mins of so in the morning where he finally sleeps without nursing or screaming. Then the other kids come to wake me.
Last night he didn't even go to sleep until close to midnight. He wasn't screaming and grumping, he was being very cute. He had a pink diaper on and his batman pj top with cape, and was doing all his cute smiles and getting into things and dancing and making noises. I think he's had too much candy from halloween, which very well might explain his night time grumps too. He finally went to sleep, Rene and I watched an episode of heros (I need *some* grown up time) and shut off the lights and laid down just in time for Turtle to start up his sirens again.
I feel like a zombie. All my days are running into each other. And I feel so sorry for myself and grumpy. I'm planning a day in bed today. Lots of tv and hanging around in our jammies. I really really hope he sleeps tonight.
Remember to check out Kaya's ikaya 2nd webisode. She'll be heartbroken if she gets no comments.
And he will just not sleep at night. He was a fantastic sleeper from day one. But he's making up for it now. I've had 3 nights in a row of him just screaming at me all night. Honestly, I'm not exaggerating. He is just plain mad at me all night long. I get 45 mins of so in the morning where he finally sleeps without nursing or screaming. Then the other kids come to wake me.
Last night he didn't even go to sleep until close to midnight. He wasn't screaming and grumping, he was being very cute. He had a pink diaper on and his batman pj top with cape, and was doing all his cute smiles and getting into things and dancing and making noises. I think he's had too much candy from halloween, which very well might explain his night time grumps too. He finally went to sleep, Rene and I watched an episode of heros (I need *some* grown up time) and shut off the lights and laid down just in time for Turtle to start up his sirens again.
I feel like a zombie. All my days are running into each other. And I feel so sorry for myself and grumpy. I'm planning a day in bed today. Lots of tv and hanging around in our jammies. I really really hope he sleeps tonight.
Remember to check out Kaya's ikaya 2nd webisode. She'll be heartbroken if she gets no comments.
Monday, September 28, 2009
I heart faces - Blue
Labels:
Glenn,
i heart faces
Woohoo, I made the top ten again last week. It certainly made a bad weekend a lot easier to handle. It's so exciting to wake up on a Sat morning and find that I've made the top 10. It's such a buzz.
This week's theme is BLUE.
I just edited this, because I changed my mind and went for a different pic. There's still time...
I took the pic today, along with a few others, specifically for the blue theme. I got a couple other cuties too, which will be up at my smugmug account in the future at some point. I am currently still working through August photos, so bear with me.
Anyway, here's the bit where I say; I heart faces is a super awesome blog photo contest thingy with hundreds of contestants each week. It is loads of fun and very inspiring and there is such a wide variety of photography levels, from complete beginner to professional. So you should come join in. Click on the graphic
This week's theme is BLUE.
I just edited this, because I changed my mind and went for a different pic. There's still time...
I took the pic today, along with a few others, specifically for the blue theme. I got a couple other cuties too, which will be up at my smugmug account in the future at some point. I am currently still working through August photos, so bear with me.
Anyway, here's the bit where I say; I heart faces is a super awesome blog photo contest thingy with hundreds of contestants each week. It is loads of fun and very inspiring and there is such a wide variety of photography levels, from complete beginner to professional. So you should come join in. Click on the graphic
Friday, September 18, 2009
Broken
It seems a lot of things are breaking recently. First our Internet connection went down. We had 2.5 days without the net. At first I was miserable and felt like someone was sucking all the oxygen out of the room. Pretty pathetic, huh? But by the time they came and fixed it last night, I had gotten kind of used to not having it, and I didn't really feel like I wanted it anymore. I abstained from going near the laptop until this morning, when I briefly opened it for a recipe and I answered one e-mail. I have a million others to go through...some time later.
It was nice, just being focused on life, on the kids and even the house, I guess. :) I think I need to put some restrictions on my online time, and spend more time in real life.
Then today the car brakes broke (something seems ironic about the phrase). I was pretty shaken up by it. Rene thinks it will be an easy fix. It was just me and the kids and no cell phone, I managed to crawl home but it was scary.
And my camera lens broke. My favorite one. I'm getting error 99. I've tried cleaning the contacts, but it's not helping. *sigh* Maybe one day I'll be able to get it fixed. Meanwhile, my photos won't be anywhere near as good, without my fav lens.
My laptop keyboard is broken. The x hardly works, I have to press it really hard.
A year ago from yesterday, I was fearing that my body was broken. That I wasn't capable of giving birth without being induced. That there was something wrong with me and I'd need pitocin every time and I should just surrender to that fact. Then a year ago today I learned to have more faith in my body. And I had the best, healing birth experience I could have dreamed of.
And today he turned one. This year went by in a flash. Faster than any other year ever has. Too fast. His babyhood has been a delight. He's been sweet, complacent, clever, funny, happy and wonderful. He's had his grumpy times too, but we're all entitled to our moments. I'm sad it's over so fast. But I'm also celebrating that he's made it to a year. I know the early months are always scary for me. So I'm praising God today, that he's alive and well, and celebrating his birthday with balloons and cake and park trips and presents and lot and lots of kisses.
It was nice, just being focused on life, on the kids and even the house, I guess. :) I think I need to put some restrictions on my online time, and spend more time in real life.
Then today the car brakes broke (something seems ironic about the phrase). I was pretty shaken up by it. Rene thinks it will be an easy fix. It was just me and the kids and no cell phone, I managed to crawl home but it was scary.
And my camera lens broke. My favorite one. I'm getting error 99. I've tried cleaning the contacts, but it's not helping. *sigh* Maybe one day I'll be able to get it fixed. Meanwhile, my photos won't be anywhere near as good, without my fav lens.
My laptop keyboard is broken. The x hardly works, I have to press it really hard.
A year ago from yesterday, I was fearing that my body was broken. That I wasn't capable of giving birth without being induced. That there was something wrong with me and I'd need pitocin every time and I should just surrender to that fact. Then a year ago today I learned to have more faith in my body. And I had the best, healing birth experience I could have dreamed of.
And today he turned one. This year went by in a flash. Faster than any other year ever has. Too fast. His babyhood has been a delight. He's been sweet, complacent, clever, funny, happy and wonderful. He's had his grumpy times too, but we're all entitled to our moments. I'm sad it's over so fast. But I'm also celebrating that he's made it to a year. I know the early months are always scary for me. So I'm praising God today, that he's alive and well, and celebrating his birthday with balloons and cake and park trips and presents and lot and lots of kisses.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Brag post
I'm a mum. I like to brag about my kids 'cause I think they're the bestest. I'm allowed to do this. This is my blog after all.
{insert toothy grin here}
Here's Turtle toddling around. I *love* the early walks. It's so freaking cute.
Oh, and please ignore the background noise in both of these videos. This is my house, full of monkeys. There is always background noise (like right now, Zoe and Lana are locked in mortal combat over a helium balloon disagreement and it is generating a significant level of background noise).
And here's Zoe the artist. She *loves* to draw. You'll remember, she got started at and early age. She can entertain herself for hours drawing. Unfortunately it won't just be on paper. It will be on her, on her siblings, on the furniture and the walls. She's even drawn with chalk on the neighbor's lawnmower (oops, sorry guys).
Until recently, it's just been scribbles or circles. But now she draws faces, bodies, bugs, butterflies and even an occasional letter of the alphabet. (brag brag brag, but isn't she clever?)
She is a little ambidextrous but she does favor her left hand. Here she starts off drawing with her right hand just because I confused her when I handed her the green crayon and asked her to draw a green monster, but she didn't want to give up the orange one. She quickly switches to her other hand and takes over with it.
{insert toothy grin here}
Here's Turtle toddling around. I *love* the early walks. It's so freaking cute.
Oh, and please ignore the background noise in both of these videos. This is my house, full of monkeys. There is always background noise (like right now, Zoe and Lana are locked in mortal combat over a helium balloon disagreement and it is generating a significant level of background noise).
And here's Zoe the artist. She *loves* to draw. You'll remember, she got started at and early age. She can entertain herself for hours drawing. Unfortunately it won't just be on paper. It will be on her, on her siblings, on the furniture and the walls. She's even drawn with chalk on the neighbor's lawnmower (oops, sorry guys).
Until recently, it's just been scribbles or circles. But now she draws faces, bodies, bugs, butterflies and even an occasional letter of the alphabet. (brag brag brag, but isn't she clever?)
She is a little ambidextrous but she does favor her left hand. Here she starts off drawing with her right hand just because I confused her when I handed her the green crayon and asked her to draw a green monster, but she didn't want to give up the orange one. She quickly switches to her other hand and takes over with it.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
When Turtles attack
Labels:
Glenn
Turtle got to my laptop, pulled the screen down, and was fascinated to see himself in the webcam software thingy. He proceeded to take snapshots of himself.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
We've coined a new phrase
Labels:
gentle discipline,
Glenn
Rene came up with the term this morning while trying to put away some laundry (yes, I know, I have a man who puts away laundry on occasion. I am thankful) with Turtle on tow. As he put things away, Turtle pulled them back out again.
Rene came and reported to me that our son was "unhelping".
Turtle then unhelped his Daddy to load the dishwasher later too.
Of course, we still give plenty of praise for unhelping. Not just because Turtle has the cutest grin and can get away with almost anything with that charm. But also because we know his intentions are pure. He is trying to help, to be just like Daddy. How sweet. As he grows, we can guide him towards more helpful helping, rather than unhelpful helping. But until then, I guess doing the dishes will just have to take a little longer, while we stop to grin at the boy who is unhelping in the cutest imaginable way.
I am SO far behind with pics, so here's one from July, since every post is better with one.
Rene came and reported to me that our son was "unhelping".
Turtle then unhelped his Daddy to load the dishwasher later too.
Of course, we still give plenty of praise for unhelping. Not just because Turtle has the cutest grin and can get away with almost anything with that charm. But also because we know his intentions are pure. He is trying to help, to be just like Daddy. How sweet. As he grows, we can guide him towards more helpful helping, rather than unhelpful helping. But until then, I guess doing the dishes will just have to take a little longer, while we stop to grin at the boy who is unhelping in the cutest imaginable way.
I am SO far behind with pics, so here's one from July, since every post is better with one.
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