Wow, it really has been a while. But I'm using the old "I've got a good excuse" excuse. Since we last were together, I have turned 35, celebrated Turkey day (in OCTOBER, the way it should be haha), watched my amazing daughter turn 5, dressed the kids up for Hallowe'en, remembered with great admiration the incredible sacrifices made by so many, received a late night phone call letting me know our 2 car family is now down to 1, watched an entire stage of JK/SK kids wiggle their little butts, pop up like icicles...and oh ya, somewhere in there I became a mother of THREE!
Friday, December 23, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
It's All About Percentages
Chances of being RH negative? 15%.
Chances of having Celiac Disease? 1 in 133.
Chances of having a son needing hypospadias repair? Varies from 1 in 150 to 1 in 300.
Chances of a fetus developing Choroid Plexus Cysts? 1 to 2%.
It's all about percentages. And I have all of the above. Being RH negative is quite literally a pain in the ass, but easily dealt with with 2 shots per pregnancy. No side effects, no worries. Just making sure your body doesn't reject your new little bundle for having a "positive" baby daddy.
Having Celiacs can also be a literal pain in the ass...or gut, or stomach, etc. An annoying and very sneaky disease, but easily managed with a gluten free diet for the rest of your life. I don't complain about having it. So I can't eat an entire basket of warm bread served while I wait for my meal at the Keg. So what? I don't have to endure chemo or dialysis. This won't kill me...just put me at higher risk for things that could later on.
Hypospadias repair was by far the worst I've had to endure with my son. Again, not a life threatening condition and at the end of it all, I got to take my son home healthy and...well after months of recovery, happy. I don't ever want to have to watch nurses wheel my son through oversized hospital doors in a metal crib while he rests on all fours, crying and reaching for me ever again.
Little Wayne Gretzky? He's no exception. He's decided to develop a cyst on his little brain that I'll find out next week if it's disappeared as it should have by now. Again, nothing to really worry about...it's basically an air bubble that appears, then goes away on it's own before 30 weeks gestation...normally. And even if it doesn't, it doesn't really mean much of anything. Generally people have no side effects from being born with one. However, as you might have noticed, if there's a relatively small percentage of the population to have something, apparently I'm on it like pig on sh!t.
Again, I'm really not complaining about things. I have it easy. My kids are happy and healthy and so are my husband and I. We know how incredibly lucky we are every day. And, the possibility of this little cyst remaining in my developing little man's brain allowed me to see him when I've never seen either of my other 2. All squished in, folded up and hiding his face from the camera.
Chances of having Celiac Disease? 1 in 133.
Chances of having a son needing hypospadias repair? Varies from 1 in 150 to 1 in 300.
Chances of a fetus developing Choroid Plexus Cysts? 1 to 2%.
It's all about percentages. And I have all of the above. Being RH negative is quite literally a pain in the ass, but easily dealt with with 2 shots per pregnancy. No side effects, no worries. Just making sure your body doesn't reject your new little bundle for having a "positive" baby daddy.
Having Celiacs can also be a literal pain in the ass...or gut, or stomach, etc. An annoying and very sneaky disease, but easily managed with a gluten free diet for the rest of your life. I don't complain about having it. So I can't eat an entire basket of warm bread served while I wait for my meal at the Keg. So what? I don't have to endure chemo or dialysis. This won't kill me...just put me at higher risk for things that could later on.
Hypospadias repair was by far the worst I've had to endure with my son. Again, not a life threatening condition and at the end of it all, I got to take my son home healthy and...well after months of recovery, happy. I don't ever want to have to watch nurses wheel my son through oversized hospital doors in a metal crib while he rests on all fours, crying and reaching for me ever again.
Little Wayne Gretzky? He's no exception. He's decided to develop a cyst on his little brain that I'll find out next week if it's disappeared as it should have by now. Again, nothing to really worry about...it's basically an air bubble that appears, then goes away on it's own before 30 weeks gestation...normally. And even if it doesn't, it doesn't really mean much of anything. Generally people have no side effects from being born with one. However, as you might have noticed, if there's a relatively small percentage of the population to have something, apparently I'm on it like pig on sh!t.
Again, I'm really not complaining about things. I have it easy. My kids are happy and healthy and so are my husband and I. We know how incredibly lucky we are every day. And, the possibility of this little cyst remaining in my developing little man's brain allowed me to see him when I've never seen either of my other 2. All squished in, folded up and hiding his face from the camera.
So, here I sit. 32 weeks in with anywhere between 7 and 9 left to go. 100% excited to meet Wayne Gretzky and watch his big brother and sister fawn over him, love him, wake him up from the only nap he's taken all day and trying to mail him to a far off place to get back to their version of normal again.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
I Gotta Go Peeeeee
So my 2.5 year old son has been potty trained for quite some time now. The occasional accident seeps in here and there, but for the most part, this kid has been a Pull-Up free, Spiderman/Buzz Lightyear/Lightening McQueen big boy underwear phenomenon.
He made it almost too easy. He wanted to use the potty just like his big sister...actually, he was far better at it than she was. Even over night was going tremendously well. Never wet his bed, wearing big boy underwear for 2 months all night with no issues...until a few nights ago. Total regression (IN MY DAMN BED) on that one. Oh well, sheets can be cleaned, mattresses decontaminated and Pull-Ups reapplied while sleeping. He asks each night now why he needs to wear them, but thankfully doesn't seem to be worried about it.
His game? EVERY time we set foot in the grocery store, he says he's got to go peeeeee. We kneel down to his level and have a heart to heart..."Do you really have to pee, or do you just want to go upstairs?". He swears he really needs to go. We, of course know better...but, when you're potty training a kid, you've got to listen when they say they need to go right?
So, thankfully today it was BEFORE I loaded up the cart and stood in line waiting to pay for the groceries (which is the usual case). Up we went, big sister in tow. She used the potty with great success. He however, sat there goofing around and whining that it wouldn't come out. I try to reason with him. Tell him that it's now or never, I'm NOT coming back up those stairs. I suggest trying the potty next door as it's a bit lower to the ground. Fine...next door we go. Nope, same devlish grin on his face. He says he just can't go and will wait until we get home. Ugh.
Fine, a-shopping we will go. Cart full, groceries paid for and packed up in the dreaded 5 cent plastic bags as I hadn't really planned on going shopping on the way home. Head back outside, find the car just where we left it, struggle to get 2 children out of the shopping cart (quite comical to watch a 7 month pregnant belleh deal with that I'm sure)...then wedge the 5 over sized scandalous plastic bags filled with gluten free pizza crusts, various fruits and cotton candy ice cream, into random spots between, behind and inside of the collapsed Joovy Caboose in the trunk.
Leave the parking lot..."Mommyyyyyy, I have to peeeeeee" comes from directly behind the driver's seat and with a quick glance in the mirror, I can see 2 little legs wiggling. Ugh number 2. I can see that he really does have to go, but really? What's a mother to do? Pull over to the non-existent shoulder on the road and let him pee on the grass? Nope. I visualize my drive home and what's on the road ahead.
Never thought I'd say this, but today, Taco Bell and KFC were my friends. Phew crisis averted...ice cream softened, but I'd take that over having to disassemble a car seat for a good old Friday night wash n' dry any day.
By the time we get home and I get everything and everyone unloaded, I hear those cursed words again. Seriously dude??? I have a 15" human practicing ancient martial arts on my bladder 24/7 and YOU have to pee? Again? Sure did. Like a trucker.
He made it almost too easy. He wanted to use the potty just like his big sister...actually, he was far better at it than she was. Even over night was going tremendously well. Never wet his bed, wearing big boy underwear for 2 months all night with no issues...until a few nights ago. Total regression (IN MY DAMN BED) on that one. Oh well, sheets can be cleaned, mattresses decontaminated and Pull-Ups reapplied while sleeping. He asks each night now why he needs to wear them, but thankfully doesn't seem to be worried about it.
His game? EVERY time we set foot in the grocery store, he says he's got to go peeeeee. We kneel down to his level and have a heart to heart..."Do you really have to pee, or do you just want to go upstairs?". He swears he really needs to go. We, of course know better...but, when you're potty training a kid, you've got to listen when they say they need to go right?
So, thankfully today it was BEFORE I loaded up the cart and stood in line waiting to pay for the groceries (which is the usual case). Up we went, big sister in tow. She used the potty with great success. He however, sat there goofing around and whining that it wouldn't come out. I try to reason with him. Tell him that it's now or never, I'm NOT coming back up those stairs. I suggest trying the potty next door as it's a bit lower to the ground. Fine...next door we go. Nope, same devlish grin on his face. He says he just can't go and will wait until we get home. Ugh.
Fine, a-shopping we will go. Cart full, groceries paid for and packed up in the dreaded 5 cent plastic bags as I hadn't really planned on going shopping on the way home. Head back outside, find the car just where we left it, struggle to get 2 children out of the shopping cart (quite comical to watch a 7 month pregnant belleh deal with that I'm sure)...then wedge the 5 over sized scandalous plastic bags filled with gluten free pizza crusts, various fruits and cotton candy ice cream, into random spots between, behind and inside of the collapsed Joovy Caboose in the trunk.
Leave the parking lot..."Mommyyyyyy, I have to peeeeeee" comes from directly behind the driver's seat and with a quick glance in the mirror, I can see 2 little legs wiggling. Ugh number 2. I can see that he really does have to go, but really? What's a mother to do? Pull over to the non-existent shoulder on the road and let him pee on the grass? Nope. I visualize my drive home and what's on the road ahead.
Never thought I'd say this, but today, Taco Bell and KFC were my friends. Phew crisis averted...ice cream softened, but I'd take that over having to disassemble a car seat for a good old Friday night wash n' dry any day.
By the time we get home and I get everything and everyone unloaded, I hear those cursed words again. Seriously dude??? I have a 15" human practicing ancient martial arts on my bladder 24/7 and YOU have to pee? Again? Sure did. Like a trucker.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
A Little Miracle
So today, my best friend gave birth to a beautiful, healthy and only a couple of weeks early, baby boy. Wee little Charlie has put his Mommy through the ringer (and his Daddy too), but he's here, he's healthy and he's 2 hours away from me. Damn kid.
Were it not for work, 2 small and 1 large gorgeous faces to come home to, I'd be at that hospital right now stealing snuggle time from a very proud Daddy, exhausted Mommy and ridiculously excited big sister. But, here I sit...itching to jump in the Yoda and head out there, gifts in tow.
Funny how when I talked to Charlie's Dad today, he kept asking me how I was doing...how my little one was treating me. Dude, I'm fine! I didn't just spew a watermelon out of places I wish I never knew about. Then I realize...sh#t, I'm about to do that...again.
Ah, I can handle that. I've done it twice before. Once induced (Madison, true to character, took her sweet old time showing her face) and once at home, as a surprise urgent delivery, masterfully handled by my Paramedic husband (he may not be allowed to handle electricity, but that man can deliver my baby any day...just not November 8th because that is SO not happening again this time).
My worries lie in what happens when "Wayne Gretzky" comes home. The cat will be pissed...possibly quite literally the bastard, the dog will be defeated..."oh great, another one". Madison will be a phenomenal help as she's already decided that she will be the one carrying her baby brother to his crib each night. Sure, knock yourself out, babies bounce right? Brayden...well, he'll have a love-hate relationship going on I think. He's a sweet, sweet boy and will adore his baby brother, but will HATE that he will have to wait 2.2 seconds to get his chocolate milk now that I have to remember how to pour while balancing an infant in my arms.
As I do live in Canada, is 1 month too early for an infant to be pulled around by his siblings on a toboggan in white out conditions? Thankfully we will be out of mosquito season by then so I don't have to worry about him being carried off by Deet-immune mutants...but then, there are the polar bears.
For some odd reason, the thing that stays on my mind the most, is how on Earth I will manage to get 3 kids aged 5 and under to bed each night. Short of duct taping them Red Green style to their beds, I guess I'll just have to figure that one out on the fly.
Now that I know little Charlie is here and he is safe, thanks to his amazing mother and father who endured I believe it was 8 weeks of bedrest and multiple trips to L&D...I swear that woman is a fighter far beyond anything X-tina could ever belt about...now that I know he's safe, little Wayne gets my full baby brain laden attention. Just under 14 weeks to go...Jesus H Christ, do you have any idea how fast 14 weeks goes??? Well, 13 will fly by. The final week will feel like a marathon at the end of the Lake Placid Ironman, right Kevin Conners?
Now I start trying to remember what babies need. Crib? Check. Blankets? Ridiculously checked. Clothes? Um...working on that one.
We'll get there. In 14 weeks, we'll be bringing home our own little miracle for the 3rd time. Until then, I get to enjoy my time as a Mommy of 2 incredible little people who make me laugh, smile, melt and want to punch a brick wall every day. Of course I don't...I don't think Tarion would cover that sort of damage.
Were it not for work, 2 small and 1 large gorgeous faces to come home to, I'd be at that hospital right now stealing snuggle time from a very proud Daddy, exhausted Mommy and ridiculously excited big sister. But, here I sit...itching to jump in the Yoda and head out there, gifts in tow.
Funny how when I talked to Charlie's Dad today, he kept asking me how I was doing...how my little one was treating me. Dude, I'm fine! I didn't just spew a watermelon out of places I wish I never knew about. Then I realize...sh#t, I'm about to do that...again.
Ah, I can handle that. I've done it twice before. Once induced (Madison, true to character, took her sweet old time showing her face) and once at home, as a surprise urgent delivery, masterfully handled by my Paramedic husband (he may not be allowed to handle electricity, but that man can deliver my baby any day...just not November 8th because that is SO not happening again this time).
My worries lie in what happens when "Wayne Gretzky" comes home. The cat will be pissed...possibly quite literally the bastard, the dog will be defeated..."oh great, another one". Madison will be a phenomenal help as she's already decided that she will be the one carrying her baby brother to his crib each night. Sure, knock yourself out, babies bounce right? Brayden...well, he'll have a love-hate relationship going on I think. He's a sweet, sweet boy and will adore his baby brother, but will HATE that he will have to wait 2.2 seconds to get his chocolate milk now that I have to remember how to pour while balancing an infant in my arms.
As I do live in Canada, is 1 month too early for an infant to be pulled around by his siblings on a toboggan in white out conditions? Thankfully we will be out of mosquito season by then so I don't have to worry about him being carried off by Deet-immune mutants...but then, there are the polar bears.
For some odd reason, the thing that stays on my mind the most, is how on Earth I will manage to get 3 kids aged 5 and under to bed each night. Short of duct taping them Red Green style to their beds, I guess I'll just have to figure that one out on the fly.
Now that I know little Charlie is here and he is safe, thanks to his amazing mother and father who endured I believe it was 8 weeks of bedrest and multiple trips to L&D...I swear that woman is a fighter far beyond anything X-tina could ever belt about...now that I know he's safe, little Wayne gets my full baby brain laden attention. Just under 14 weeks to go...Jesus H Christ, do you have any idea how fast 14 weeks goes??? Well, 13 will fly by. The final week will feel like a marathon at the end of the Lake Placid Ironman, right Kevin Conners?
Now I start trying to remember what babies need. Crib? Check. Blankets? Ridiculously checked. Clothes? Um...working on that one.
We'll get there. In 14 weeks, we'll be bringing home our own little miracle for the 3rd time. Until then, I get to enjoy my time as a Mommy of 2 incredible little people who make me laugh, smile, melt and want to punch a brick wall every day. Of course I don't...I don't think Tarion would cover that sort of damage.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
22 Weeks and Counting
Alright, so I haven't been on here in a while. Well 2 months, so a long while. I've had a few other things on the go.
To update you on the happenings of baby #3, it's been fairly calm really. My monthly 60 second check up at the doctor is always normal. Blood pressure is incredible, heartbeat is there and I'm called "a machine". Same old same old. And no, I'm not complaining about that. I'm very aware that I am a lucky pregnant lady and yes...I know that most friends, although wonderful and so excited for us...secretly curse my name. While I've had friends deliver preemies 8 weeks before the charts said they should and wind up in hospitals for weeks before coming home, my kids either hang out for an extra 10 days packin' on the pounds, or shove themselves out on their due date within minutes.
The age old question of "are you finding out the gender?" has been answered. For the first time we decided to find out what we were having. I didn't really want to know, but I decided that Madison would be dealing with enough with a new baby in the house that she didn't need to add the "shock" of it being a boy at the same time. So, Madison decided that if we were having a girl, we would call her Hannah Montana until she was born. Brayden didn't hesitate in naming a boy Wayne Gretzky. Can't really argue with that one...he IS the Great One afterall. Off to the ultrasound, bladder thoroughly filled and we left with a blue cookie. Wayne Gretzky it is!!
So, here I sit, 22.5 weeks in and counting. Tired, busy as all Hell, with a boy in my gut who randomly decides my sciatic nerve is his favourite play thing. 17.5 weeks to go! Sh$t. Are we seriously doing this again? Hells yes and we're doing it balls out.
To update you on the happenings of baby #3, it's been fairly calm really. My monthly 60 second check up at the doctor is always normal. Blood pressure is incredible, heartbeat is there and I'm called "a machine". Same old same old. And no, I'm not complaining about that. I'm very aware that I am a lucky pregnant lady and yes...I know that most friends, although wonderful and so excited for us...secretly curse my name. While I've had friends deliver preemies 8 weeks before the charts said they should and wind up in hospitals for weeks before coming home, my kids either hang out for an extra 10 days packin' on the pounds, or shove themselves out on their due date within minutes.
The age old question of "are you finding out the gender?" has been answered. For the first time we decided to find out what we were having. I didn't really want to know, but I decided that Madison would be dealing with enough with a new baby in the house that she didn't need to add the "shock" of it being a boy at the same time. So, Madison decided that if we were having a girl, we would call her Hannah Montana until she was born. Brayden didn't hesitate in naming a boy Wayne Gretzky. Can't really argue with that one...he IS the Great One afterall. Off to the ultrasound, bladder thoroughly filled and we left with a blue cookie. Wayne Gretzky it is!!
So, here I sit, 22.5 weeks in and counting. Tired, busy as all Hell, with a boy in my gut who randomly decides my sciatic nerve is his favourite play thing. 17.5 weeks to go! Sh$t. Are we seriously doing this again? Hells yes and we're doing it balls out.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Something So Simple
Who would have thought that something so simple could bring such a huge smile to 4 faces today (well, 5 if you count the dog)?
Wellies, rubber boots, rain boots...whatever you call them...were the catalyst of joy on a cold and rainy Sunday afternoon. Ignoring the 20 minute fight to get 2 small children ready to head out (including convincing/forcing them to wear sweaters under their raincoats, splash pants over their legs and their wellies instead of the fancy light up Spiderman running shoes that are the current favourite), then rainy days in our house RULE!
We decided to be good dog owners and bring along the pooch too. If she could full-on smile, she most definitely did today.
Trudging along behind a 2 year old in a bright yellow slicker, navy splash pants and yellow wellies, a 4 year old wearing a pink raincoat lined with apple patterned fabric, pink splash pants and pink princess adorned wellies, finding any and every giant puddle along the pathway through the park behind our house...priceless.
I was wearing my $12 Walmart special wellies too, so I joined right in. Because it was pouring rain, no-one else was outdoors, so we let Suki run loose for a while in the park as well (don't tell the neighbours...though I'm sure many of them were staring at us through cracked blinds, shaking their heads in disbelief...we were crazy and we loved it). Today, I was the best Mommy ever for about 20 minutes. To see the absolute joy on the faces of my kids, by simply letting them run wild through countless puddles and splashing as much as they wanted...I would do that any day of the week. Hell, I'd be willing to flood the backyard to see that again. I think Andrew would too.
A walk in the rain. Splashing to our heart's content. Watching the family of geese teaching their babies how to swim in the pond behind our house. Watching the dog run freely through the fields. We all had so much fun doing something so simple.
Wellies, rubber boots, rain boots...whatever you call them...were the catalyst of joy on a cold and rainy Sunday afternoon. Ignoring the 20 minute fight to get 2 small children ready to head out (including convincing/forcing them to wear sweaters under their raincoats, splash pants over their legs and their wellies instead of the fancy light up Spiderman running shoes that are the current favourite), then rainy days in our house RULE!
We decided to be good dog owners and bring along the pooch too. If she could full-on smile, she most definitely did today.
Trudging along behind a 2 year old in a bright yellow slicker, navy splash pants and yellow wellies, a 4 year old wearing a pink raincoat lined with apple patterned fabric, pink splash pants and pink princess adorned wellies, finding any and every giant puddle along the pathway through the park behind our house...priceless.
I was wearing my $12 Walmart special wellies too, so I joined right in. Because it was pouring rain, no-one else was outdoors, so we let Suki run loose for a while in the park as well (don't tell the neighbours...though I'm sure many of them were staring at us through cracked blinds, shaking their heads in disbelief...we were crazy and we loved it). Today, I was the best Mommy ever for about 20 minutes. To see the absolute joy on the faces of my kids, by simply letting them run wild through countless puddles and splashing as much as they wanted...I would do that any day of the week. Hell, I'd be willing to flood the backyard to see that again. I think Andrew would too.
A walk in the rain. Splashing to our heart's content. Watching the family of geese teaching their babies how to swim in the pond behind our house. Watching the dog run freely through the fields. We all had so much fun doing something so simple.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Make That 1.5
Remember that post I did not too long ago? The one about the babies surrounding me...old classmates, best friends, celebrities. And how I was "happy" when I could send those adorable mini people back home to their Mommies...ya, well SCRAP THAT!!
My million dollar family is now worth a cool 1.5. Baby #3 will make their debut sometime in early November. We're happy, we're excited...we're exhausted.
Madison insists that this be a baby sister for her. Brayden says it's a boy baby. Madison, my stubborn little mini-me, INSISTS this be a baby sister. We'll see who gets their way soon enough.
Oh and if ONE more person asks me if we were trying, I think I might turn all Mama Bear on their ass.
So, this summer, while many of you are quite literally working your asses off...I'll be getting nice and fat, eating my (gluten free) cake...and yours...and yours...
My million dollar family is now worth a cool 1.5. Baby #3 will make their debut sometime in early November. We're happy, we're excited...we're exhausted.
Madison insists that this be a baby sister for her. Brayden says it's a boy baby. Madison, my stubborn little mini-me, INSISTS this be a baby sister. We'll see who gets their way soon enough.
Oh and if ONE more person asks me if we were trying, I think I might turn all Mama Bear on their ass.
So, this summer, while many of you are quite literally working your asses off...I'll be getting nice and fat, eating my (gluten free) cake...and yours...and yours...
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Why I Hate Mondays
A tough little broad. That's my Maddie (sorry, Madison as she now prefers...she's 4...really?). This is a little girl who's been a puker since day one. Quite literally, my daughter has tossed her cookies more in her 4 short years than I have in 34. It's gotten to the point where she's completely comfortable with it, moves on like almost nothing has happened until the next round. So have I. I've got catching vomit in my hands, closest waste bin and getting it out of sheets at 2a.m. down to a science.
However, when my daughter threw up 9 times between 7:45a.m. and 9:45a.m. on Monday morning, once including blood (sorry, gross I know, but as I said, I'm used to this) I was more than a little worried. My little girl came stumbling out of her room in the morning, so dizzy she couldn't see straight, walking into walls and collapsing repeatedly in the 30 steps it took to make it to my room, where I sat watching in shock. The first stumble I figured was just Madison getting up too quickly from her slumber. The second I thought she was being a typical 4 year old goofing around saying "I'm dizzy Mommy". That's when the vomiting began and didn't end.
After a quick call to her Dad (a Paramedic who was at work at the time) I decided to pack her into the car, Boo Bear and puke bucket in hand, and head to the Children's ER. Thankfully, we have an incredible children's hospital and ER here.
We waited a short while before being assigned a bed and getting assessed by the nurses, then a doctor shortly after. After a white grape popsicle and a few sips of blue Gatorade, which promptly saw the light of day in reverse, they wanted to see her walking. That didn't go very well. Laying down, Madison was the picture of health. Laughing, playing, smiling.
Any sort of elevation of her head and she spiraled downward immediately. She (to quote the doctor) "walked like a drunken sailor". Her stomach rejecting absolutely everything, coupled with the intense dizziness when upright concerned her. So, in went an IV. Dear Lord I never, ever want to watch my child go through that again.
The absolute terror in her eyes, watching the nurses (who asked me before the procedure began if I was ok to stay with her or if I thought I might need to leave...seriously??? Who the HELL would LEAVE their 4 year old to suffer through that alone????) poke into her tiny vein...wait no, they missed it...wiggle, ah...got it. That was horrible. I swear that I almost saw the needle poke straight through the back of her hand. But, it didn't and the nurses (2 of them) secured a line in and made a "bed" for her hand.
She was on an IV drip for a couple of hours which helped, but didn't completely work. After needing to get a urine sample (let me tell you how much fun that was) and her collapsing into my arms again, even after being re-hydrated, the doctor suggested (reluctantly) that we do a CAT scan to rule out any sign on brain injury or the like. Oh, ok, sure. No problem. I'm sorry, WHAT??? My 4 year old, who was running around the Home Show dipping her fingers into the hot tubs on display, playing on the giant playground and jumping on the trampoline just the day before, has to be strapped onto a slab, moved into a giant rotating camera that is loud and fast and scary to any grown up. Yep, sign her up.
She was amazing. Scared at first, but sang songs with the nurse by her side (even corrected her on some of the lyrics) while I had to wait on the other side of the door that felt like it had to be 600 feet away (though it was only about 10). I've never had one done, but my 4 year old is now a pro. Something is wrong with that.
Thankfully everything looked just fine. Ok, I can breathe now. Can we go? Not quite. Madison still hadn't eaten or walked normally and it was now about 4:30. After the CAT scan, they filled her full of popsicles and had me do laps with her around the floor (IV pole in tow). Diagnosis? Possible inner ear infection which is a viral thing so there's nothing that can be done about it.
So, after a day filled with drama, laughter, terror, relief and an unheard of number of earned stickers for bravery, we were allowed to leave. WE WERE ALLOWED TO LEAVE!!! I can't say the same for other families nearby. One had a son who's left lung was almost completely filled with fluid, another was a regular renal patient, yet another was an Amish boy of 3 who somehow came into contact with kerosene.
We pulled into the driveway around 7:00p.m. to find my husband and 2 year old son waiting for us and waving. Madison didn't know it as she'd finally fallen asleep (and stayed asleep until 7:30 the next morning). It was so sweet to open the car door to see Brayden RIGHT at his big sister's side saying hi repeatedly and watching every move Daddy made while getting her out of the car and up to her bed.
(Did I mention that my son had such a major panic attack...a 2.5 hour attack...that his grandfather had to call my husband home from work so he would start to breathe in a regular pattern again?)
So, that was my Monday. How was yours?
By the way, she was about 98% better by 3:00p.m. on Tuesday and back to school on Wednesday. I've always said kids are like Tigger, they bounce.
However, when my daughter threw up 9 times between 7:45a.m. and 9:45a.m. on Monday morning, once including blood (sorry, gross I know, but as I said, I'm used to this) I was more than a little worried. My little girl came stumbling out of her room in the morning, so dizzy she couldn't see straight, walking into walls and collapsing repeatedly in the 30 steps it took to make it to my room, where I sat watching in shock. The first stumble I figured was just Madison getting up too quickly from her slumber. The second I thought she was being a typical 4 year old goofing around saying "I'm dizzy Mommy". That's when the vomiting began and didn't end.
After a quick call to her Dad (a Paramedic who was at work at the time) I decided to pack her into the car, Boo Bear and puke bucket in hand, and head to the Children's ER. Thankfully, we have an incredible children's hospital and ER here.
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| Madison lays with Boo Bear in my lap as we sit in the waiting room of the ER. |
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| Madison happily displaying the surgical glove balloon animal provided by Ollie, the resident clown of the children's ward. |
The absolute terror in her eyes, watching the nurses (who asked me before the procedure began if I was ok to stay with her or if I thought I might need to leave...seriously??? Who the HELL would LEAVE their 4 year old to suffer through that alone????) poke into her tiny vein...wait no, they missed it...wiggle, ah...got it. That was horrible. I swear that I almost saw the needle poke straight through the back of her hand. But, it didn't and the nurses (2 of them) secured a line in and made a "bed" for her hand.
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| Tiny hand, lots of tape. The little sticker said "You did it!". I don't think that made her feel better about it. |
She was amazing. Scared at first, but sang songs with the nurse by her side (even corrected her on some of the lyrics) while I had to wait on the other side of the door that felt like it had to be 600 feet away (though it was only about 10). I've never had one done, but my 4 year old is now a pro. Something is wrong with that.
Thankfully everything looked just fine. Ok, I can breathe now. Can we go? Not quite. Madison still hadn't eaten or walked normally and it was now about 4:30. After the CAT scan, they filled her full of popsicles and had me do laps with her around the floor (IV pole in tow). Diagnosis? Possible inner ear infection which is a viral thing so there's nothing that can be done about it.
So, after a day filled with drama, laughter, terror, relief and an unheard of number of earned stickers for bravery, we were allowed to leave. WE WERE ALLOWED TO LEAVE!!! I can't say the same for other families nearby. One had a son who's left lung was almost completely filled with fluid, another was a regular renal patient, yet another was an Amish boy of 3 who somehow came into contact with kerosene.
We pulled into the driveway around 7:00p.m. to find my husband and 2 year old son waiting for us and waving. Madison didn't know it as she'd finally fallen asleep (and stayed asleep until 7:30 the next morning). It was so sweet to open the car door to see Brayden RIGHT at his big sister's side saying hi repeatedly and watching every move Daddy made while getting her out of the car and up to her bed.
(Did I mention that my son had such a major panic attack...a 2.5 hour attack...that his grandfather had to call my husband home from work so he would start to breathe in a regular pattern again?)
So, that was my Monday. How was yours?
By the way, she was about 98% better by 3:00p.m. on Tuesday and back to school on Wednesday. I've always said kids are like Tigger, they bounce.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Creature of the Night
It's a good thing I'm basically nocturnal.
Throughout school (all 3 versions of post secondary) I was always a night owl. Feeling a mattress beneath me and pulling a sheet up to my chin (summer or winter, it's always at chin height) rarely happened before 3am. I was the one writing 10 page papers all night and walking into class to flop them on the desk of the unsuspecting professor. Oh, they had no idea of the genius they were about to encounter. Not just anyone could come up with brilliance like that in only 12 hours. And if my children are ever to read this, that of course means 12 hours spread out over 2 months spent scouring library shelves and archives. And microfiche.
For work (yes, even in the dreaded retail portion of my working history I was out until half past ridiculous), for play (though let's be honest, I wasn't much of a playah), during pregnancies and now throughout motherhood...I'm up. Always up. Soothing ear aches, cleaning vomit out of carpets and beloved Boo Bears, cuddling after a bad dream, comforting Brayden as he cries because he thinks he's just fallen out of bed, when in fact he fell asleep on the floor in his sleeping bag and is just confused.
Other mommies collapse into bed by 10pm. I can't even fathom that. Partly because my kids don't actually pass out until roughly 9:30 most nights. That's when I can finally just sit and BE. I generally come down the stairs (expertly avoiding the aforementioned cat hurdles and moving target that is otherwise known as the family dog), stare at the counter full of dishes for a few minutes, then promptly plop myself on the 7 year old Ikea couch that is completely in ruins, hidden under the sage couch cover.
Doesn't matter if I'm tired or wired, I'm just up. Joining the other creatures of the night. Hey, it worked for Sarah Michelle Gellar on Buffy right? And I AM a monster slayer. Just ask Madison, she'll tell you. Monsters don't mess with Mommy. Neither do the bad men, especially the one in the purple hat.
The problem I have you see, is that real life gets in the way of my nocturnalism. O.k. that's not a word, but you pick up what I'm puttin' down. I still have to get up in the morning, somehow get ready for work (some days also getting Madison ready for school, sometimes not...when Daddy's home, that's his job), get TO work (almost always 8 minutes late) and make it through the day without falling asleep at my desk. Which I've never done. Good thing I work in radio because my head bobbing generally goes to the beat of whatever "whatever" we're playing at the time.
Do I envy those who fall blissfully into REM before midnight? HELLS NO! I love the nightlife, I love to boogie. I just wish I didn't have to be up in 5.5 hours.
Throughout school (all 3 versions of post secondary) I was always a night owl. Feeling a mattress beneath me and pulling a sheet up to my chin (summer or winter, it's always at chin height) rarely happened before 3am. I was the one writing 10 page papers all night and walking into class to flop them on the desk of the unsuspecting professor. Oh, they had no idea of the genius they were about to encounter. Not just anyone could come up with brilliance like that in only 12 hours. And if my children are ever to read this, that of course means 12 hours spread out over 2 months spent scouring library shelves and archives. And microfiche.
For work (yes, even in the dreaded retail portion of my working history I was out until half past ridiculous), for play (though let's be honest, I wasn't much of a playah), during pregnancies and now throughout motherhood...I'm up. Always up. Soothing ear aches, cleaning vomit out of carpets and beloved Boo Bears, cuddling after a bad dream, comforting Brayden as he cries because he thinks he's just fallen out of bed, when in fact he fell asleep on the floor in his sleeping bag and is just confused.
Other mommies collapse into bed by 10pm. I can't even fathom that. Partly because my kids don't actually pass out until roughly 9:30 most nights. That's when I can finally just sit and BE. I generally come down the stairs (expertly avoiding the aforementioned cat hurdles and moving target that is otherwise known as the family dog), stare at the counter full of dishes for a few minutes, then promptly plop myself on the 7 year old Ikea couch that is completely in ruins, hidden under the sage couch cover.
Doesn't matter if I'm tired or wired, I'm just up. Joining the other creatures of the night. Hey, it worked for Sarah Michelle Gellar on Buffy right? And I AM a monster slayer. Just ask Madison, she'll tell you. Monsters don't mess with Mommy. Neither do the bad men, especially the one in the purple hat.
The problem I have you see, is that real life gets in the way of my nocturnalism. O.k. that's not a word, but you pick up what I'm puttin' down. I still have to get up in the morning, somehow get ready for work (some days also getting Madison ready for school, sometimes not...when Daddy's home, that's his job), get TO work (almost always 8 minutes late) and make it through the day without falling asleep at my desk. Which I've never done. Good thing I work in radio because my head bobbing generally goes to the beat of whatever "whatever" we're playing at the time.
Do I envy those who fall blissfully into REM before midnight? HELLS NO! I love the nightlife, I love to boogie. I just wish I didn't have to be up in 5.5 hours.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Baby Boom
I can't help myself. It's everywhere. THEY'RE everywhere.
Babies. I can't get away from them. My childhood friend just had her first, a beautiful boy named Blake. My very good friend and former foe on the fields of green has a wonderful 6 month old boy named Ty. My best friend and kindred soul is miraculously expecting her 2nd child later this Summer (and I do mean miraculously...not immaculate conception, but if you were to hear the back story, you'd understand). Old classmates are eagerly awaiting their first or second additions to their families. Don't even get me started on Selma Blair, Natalie Portman and Jewel.
I look at my two children and think "how could I NOT want another one?". Then I look at my two children and think "how the HELL could I want another one?".
My children are the light of my life, the reason I get up every day and the best thing I've ever done.
They're also the ones who flip on the overhead lights, whine until I get up and the reason nothing in the house ever gets done.
There are days when I'd love to have another beautiful baby in the house...then I come back to reality and remember how nice it is when my friends take their babies home with them.
Who needs the lottery? I've got my million dollar family already.
Babies. I can't get away from them. My childhood friend just had her first, a beautiful boy named Blake. My very good friend and former foe on the fields of green has a wonderful 6 month old boy named Ty. My best friend and kindred soul is miraculously expecting her 2nd child later this Summer (and I do mean miraculously...not immaculate conception, but if you were to hear the back story, you'd understand). Old classmates are eagerly awaiting their first or second additions to their families. Don't even get me started on Selma Blair, Natalie Portman and Jewel.
I look at my two children and think "how could I NOT want another one?". Then I look at my two children and think "how the HELL could I want another one?".
My children are the light of my life, the reason I get up every day and the best thing I've ever done.
They're also the ones who flip on the overhead lights, whine until I get up and the reason nothing in the house ever gets done.
There are days when I'd love to have another beautiful baby in the house...then I come back to reality and remember how nice it is when my friends take their babies home with them.
Who needs the lottery? I've got my million dollar family already.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Mad Dash Mommy
I've recently discovered the best work out ever. It's called the Mommy Mad Dash. It's a full body and mind work out. And the only equipment you'll need is right there in your house.
Take one child. Give her a nasty cold virus that may or may not have developed into viral bronchitis and put her to bed. (Elevate her head with extra pillows, slather her in Vicks Vaporub and place her beloved Boo Bear within sight...but not vomit splash range.) Head back downstairs and sit on the couch with laptop firmly placed on your lap and turn on the last quarter of the Super Bowl. Give a thumbs up to the Packers, who you weren't backing but your husband was and you knew would win anyway, then proceed to watch the much hyped Thriller episode of Glee (yes, being a Gleek IS required in order for this to be successful).
Get comfortable. Here's where the full workout begins...
Like the starting pistol of a track and field meet of yesteryear, the coughing fit starts the race. There is only one winner here. You've got to be quick, you've got to be agile, you've got to improvise and adapt to what ever it is that you face when you get up there.
First step, stretch your neck to the right in a feeble attempt to hear the situation upstairs more clearly. Extend right hand and flex index finger until "mute" button has been engaged. Tilt head to the left while still stretching neck to the right. This ensures optimal audiological potential is reached. Confirm coughing fit is in fact in full effect.
Using both hands, lift your 4.7lb laptop straight up, then lunge forward, lowering it to the table. Spring up from the couch using only your legs, working your quads and abs.
Sprint to the stairs, being careful to keep your balance as your legs have not yet realized they're no longer crossed, pretzel style, on the couch.
Work the stairs, vaulting off of every other step, hurdling over the cat that is determined (although sleeping) to stay your progress. Weave the upper hallway (while still at a sprint pace), avoiding numerous toys, articles of clothing...and oh yes, the 60lb dog that thinks this is play time...clearly.
In one swift, fluid movement, throw open the child's door, dive for the poly-resin Sesame Street waste receptacle, lift child to sitting position and thrust aforementioned Cookie Monster and Friends bucket under chin. And don't forget to breathe. All this should optimally be done in 2.2 seconds (please, someone get that reference...do you know what can happen in 2.2 seconds?).
That was a false alarm. Do about 10 reps. Mix it up a little with complaints of a severe earache requiring the blue medicine that you pray doesn't spill on the incredibly cute, phenomenal quality, polka dot sheets you found at HomeSense for $34.99.
There you have it. My new workout. Once you feel you've mastered it, add a second child with similar symptoms into the mix...alternating children every 20 minutes or so. Oh and make sure your Paramedic husband is working nights.
As a wise friend once said, panic exercise does a yummy mummy make. (Thanks for the inspiration Nits.)
Take one child. Give her a nasty cold virus that may or may not have developed into viral bronchitis and put her to bed. (Elevate her head with extra pillows, slather her in Vicks Vaporub and place her beloved Boo Bear within sight...but not vomit splash range.) Head back downstairs and sit on the couch with laptop firmly placed on your lap and turn on the last quarter of the Super Bowl. Give a thumbs up to the Packers, who you weren't backing but your husband was and you knew would win anyway, then proceed to watch the much hyped Thriller episode of Glee (yes, being a Gleek IS required in order for this to be successful).
Get comfortable. Here's where the full workout begins...
Like the starting pistol of a track and field meet of yesteryear, the coughing fit starts the race. There is only one winner here. You've got to be quick, you've got to be agile, you've got to improvise and adapt to what ever it is that you face when you get up there.
First step, stretch your neck to the right in a feeble attempt to hear the situation upstairs more clearly. Extend right hand and flex index finger until "mute" button has been engaged. Tilt head to the left while still stretching neck to the right. This ensures optimal audiological potential is reached. Confirm coughing fit is in fact in full effect.
Using both hands, lift your 4.7lb laptop straight up, then lunge forward, lowering it to the table. Spring up from the couch using only your legs, working your quads and abs.
Sprint to the stairs, being careful to keep your balance as your legs have not yet realized they're no longer crossed, pretzel style, on the couch.
Work the stairs, vaulting off of every other step, hurdling over the cat that is determined (although sleeping) to stay your progress. Weave the upper hallway (while still at a sprint pace), avoiding numerous toys, articles of clothing...and oh yes, the 60lb dog that thinks this is play time...clearly.
In one swift, fluid movement, throw open the child's door, dive for the poly-resin Sesame Street waste receptacle, lift child to sitting position and thrust aforementioned Cookie Monster and Friends bucket under chin. And don't forget to breathe. All this should optimally be done in 2.2 seconds (please, someone get that reference...do you know what can happen in 2.2 seconds?).
That was a false alarm. Do about 10 reps. Mix it up a little with complaints of a severe earache requiring the blue medicine that you pray doesn't spill on the incredibly cute, phenomenal quality, polka dot sheets you found at HomeSense for $34.99.
There you have it. My new workout. Once you feel you've mastered it, add a second child with similar symptoms into the mix...alternating children every 20 minutes or so. Oh and make sure your Paramedic husband is working nights.
As a wise friend once said, panic exercise does a yummy mummy make. (Thanks for the inspiration Nits.)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
I'm Being Haunted
No, that's not a metaphor for anything. I am being haunted by what I'm certain is a 1.5 year old boy...although I can't mention this to a certain co-worker (Kevin), because they (Kevin) are absolutely terrified of ghosts...even if they're only 1.5.
Do I hear random giggling in the night? No. Are toys floating across the room in front of me? Nope. Brayden's Winnie the Pooh potty has been "flushing" itself for the last 5 minutes with absolutely no help from me. Or my cat who is obsessed with flushing toilets.
Does this happen during daylight hours? Nope. Only in the wee hours (pun intended) of the night. Now, one COULD argue that because it's turned on and the batteries are in it that it's not being repeatedly "flushed" by a paranormal toddling friend, it's just shorting out. But I prefer to believe there's a little boy in there trying incessantly to flush his great-grandmother's gaudy and very expensive ring, down the drain.
Hmmm, maybe that's why Brayden prefers using the "big" potty all of the time. The little one is occupied.
Do I hear random giggling in the night? No. Are toys floating across the room in front of me? Nope. Brayden's Winnie the Pooh potty has been "flushing" itself for the last 5 minutes with absolutely no help from me. Or my cat who is obsessed with flushing toilets.
Does this happen during daylight hours? Nope. Only in the wee hours (pun intended) of the night. Now, one COULD argue that because it's turned on and the batteries are in it that it's not being repeatedly "flushed" by a paranormal toddling friend, it's just shorting out. But I prefer to believe there's a little boy in there trying incessantly to flush his great-grandmother's gaudy and very expensive ring, down the drain.
Hmmm, maybe that's why Brayden prefers using the "big" potty all of the time. The little one is occupied.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Who Screams Louder?
I don't know what it is about the age of 2, but it's like someone flips a switch and suddenly your baby is gone. What you're left with is a screaming, demanding, "ugly cry"-ing child, the likes of whom you've never met before.
A turned down request for "Mowe miwk pdease Mommy" results in a sudden paralysis of his legs, causing a powerful collapse to the floor. Also of note are the muscle spasms occurring in his face, loss of coherent speech and the incessant leaking of fluids from his eyes.
Let's not even broach the subject of refusing to watch Home Alone 2 for the gazillionth time that day. Yes, gazillionth...look it up. Or the insanity that occurs when the tower he's just built using VHS and DVDs that stands taller than his 4 year old sister comes crashing to the ground. (Side note, we clearly have far too many movies but I'm not willing to get rid of a single one of them.)
I love the 2's. And we're only a week in.
A turned down request for "Mowe miwk pdease Mommy" results in a sudden paralysis of his legs, causing a powerful collapse to the floor. Also of note are the muscle spasms occurring in his face, loss of coherent speech and the incessant leaking of fluids from his eyes.
Let's not even broach the subject of refusing to watch Home Alone 2 for the gazillionth time that day. Yes, gazillionth...look it up. Or the insanity that occurs when the tower he's just built using VHS and DVDs that stands taller than his 4 year old sister comes crashing to the ground. (Side note, we clearly have far too many movies but I'm not willing to get rid of a single one of them.)
I love the 2's. And we're only a week in.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
There's Something Between Us
I'm in bed. It's late. I roll over, brush the hair out of his face and say "You're hot". No, I'm not talking about my husband...though he is quite a looker. I'm talking about the little man wedged in bed between us. My son is sick. He's been cranky for days and is burning up. What we thought was teething for the 2 year molars (which is in fact part of it), turned out to be one of the numerous flus running rampant in the area. Oh joy of joys.
Double joy of joys because his 4 year old sister caught it first. By a measly 12 hours, but still, first.
We've spent the last 3 nights tag teaming, loading the kids up with Children's Advil, applying cold cloths to their foreheads and sleeping either in their beds, having one of them in ours while the other is on the couch downstairs or just plain not sleeping.
When your kids are sick, no matter who you are, you feel helpless. My husband is a Paramedic, but I don't care if you are the head neurosurgeon at the nation's top hospital, when your child is burning up, scared and in pain, you fall apart just a little.
You want to fix this. But really you can't. All you can do is ride it out and keep them as comfortable as possible until the light in their eyes shines brightly as it once did.
And you know what? It's the flu. They'll get over it, get it a million times more and get over it again. My kids are ok...miserable for 5-7 days, but ok. I'm thankful every day that I have my kids at home with me, healthy and happy.
Even with the 3am whimpers to "go downtairs pees Mommy". Even after watching Home Alone 2 for the zillionth time, or Hannah Montana season one from start to finish.
So yes, even when it's now 4am and I'm up for the 6th time cleaning up some form of bodily fluid that I never wish I'd seen, I'll always be happy that there's something between us.
Double joy of joys because his 4 year old sister caught it first. By a measly 12 hours, but still, first.
We've spent the last 3 nights tag teaming, loading the kids up with Children's Advil, applying cold cloths to their foreheads and sleeping either in their beds, having one of them in ours while the other is on the couch downstairs or just plain not sleeping.
When your kids are sick, no matter who you are, you feel helpless. My husband is a Paramedic, but I don't care if you are the head neurosurgeon at the nation's top hospital, when your child is burning up, scared and in pain, you fall apart just a little.
You want to fix this. But really you can't. All you can do is ride it out and keep them as comfortable as possible until the light in their eyes shines brightly as it once did.
And you know what? It's the flu. They'll get over it, get it a million times more and get over it again. My kids are ok...miserable for 5-7 days, but ok. I'm thankful every day that I have my kids at home with me, healthy and happy.
Even with the 3am whimpers to "go downtairs pees Mommy". Even after watching Home Alone 2 for the zillionth time, or Hannah Montana season one from start to finish.
So yes, even when it's now 4am and I'm up for the 6th time cleaning up some form of bodily fluid that I never wish I'd seen, I'll always be happy that there's something between us.
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