Today, pulmonology had to give Sally a once over to make sure she's healthy enough for surgery. We've not met this doctor, but he's heard about us for months. He's seen x-rays, MRIs, CTs, and reports but never actually seen the cute face that belongs with all of the junk. He gave us good news. Then he gave me a reality check. I don't really want to face reality at this point. I'm trying my best to just press on towards Thursday in the hopes that I won't have an emotional breakdown before then.
He gave me a rundown of the various tubes I should be expecting to see coming from Sally when she's in ICU. Then, he explained what would be coming or going from the said tubes. Then, he told me about lungs collapsing and pneumonia. Then, I asked how long we should expect Sally to be in ICU and he replied, "Oh, three to seven days." Like so nonchalant. I guess he didn't meet up with the planner in my mind that had us there about two days. Big difference in two and seven. Especially when you are talking about sleeping in a chair and watching your kid live with tubes coming out of her everywhere. I was giving him my 'deer in the headlights but faking like I'm okay with everything he just said' look. I think he knew I was freaked out. I'm not a very good faker.
I picked up the rest of the brood from my dear, absolutely should be sainted, friend. We went home and unloaded more groceries (I bought 10 loaves of bread today, I'm officially losing my mind). I laid the baby down for a nap. The biggies and I made chocolate chunk cookies.
Yeah, I'm thinking that's probably not numero uno on the list of things to do days before your daughter goes into surgery. I missed getting that list upon arrival at parenthood. So, I'm making up my own rules and they include chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. While our deliciousness was baking, I pulled out odds and ends of schoolwork to finish. This caused a barrage of complaining by the eldest child (who has determined that he needs to go directly to college since he's done with this nonsense). His murmurs blended well with the bickering of two more children and I had to send everyone to opposite corners of the house. A moment later, eldest somersaults from his appointed chair onto cast enclosed daughter and slams her to the floor...face first.
I'm at my breaking point, folks. I sent the offending boy outside and followed him. Then I explained that I couldn't take little tiffs. They could wait until life was normal again and bother each other. For now we must all get along and OBEY me. Then, I sent him in to do his work like a pleasant child and I...bawled...like...a...baby.
I just sat in the sun and had myself an absolute sob fest. Shoulders shaking, tears streaming down my face, and crying to God. I haven't cried since the day we found out about Sally's surgery. She watched me cry in the elevator and still asks me, "Why did you cry when we were at the doctor's office?" Obviously, that made a big impact.
I've held it it for too long and let *some* of it out today. In front of 4 pairs of eyes. I heard their whispers through the screen, "Everett, what did you do to Mommy?" A minute or so later one of them said, "Mommy, do you need something?" Then a chorus of, "Can we help you? Are you okay?"
God, why did you make them so rotten with this wonderful sweet streak? I hugged them all and we sat down and ate too many chocolate chunk cookies. Still only three days until surgery, but for a few minutes that's forgotten.
September 29, 2008
September 28, 2008
No news
This is just a small update--we know nothing new. The MRI and CT went well; Sally knows the routine and is excited about getting popsicles after waking up from anesthesia. We have an appointment on Tuesday with the surgeon to hear his final plan for surgery. Most depends on what he sees from the scans Friday.
They did cut the cast off, but had to do it BEFORE she was knocked out. The anesthesiologist took one look at her and said he couldn't get her mouth to open wide enough to put her out. So they brought some 'happy juice' and the saw. It came off right there in pre-op. Sally was loopy, but managed to wail the entire time. He sanded the edges down so it won't cut her and then put it back on with bandages. My eyes actually started welling up with tears because of the strong odor. The inside of the cast is brown with dirt, funk, and skin. She had three flowers from a headband embedded in her back. She picks at the headband and I guess one day a few fell right down the back of the cast and got stuck. She also had some grass and unknown other items down there too. The nurse and I rubbed her down really well with a warm washcloth. Sally just kept repeating, "Ahhhh, more, more!"
That night she sat in the tub for a long time and I scrubbed and scrubbed. It was disgusting. She was ecstatic about taking a bath after so many weeks of just dipping her toes in.
Four more days until surgery...
They did cut the cast off, but had to do it BEFORE she was knocked out. The anesthesiologist took one look at her and said he couldn't get her mouth to open wide enough to put her out. So they brought some 'happy juice' and the saw. It came off right there in pre-op. Sally was loopy, but managed to wail the entire time. He sanded the edges down so it won't cut her and then put it back on with bandages. My eyes actually started welling up with tears because of the strong odor. The inside of the cast is brown with dirt, funk, and skin. She had three flowers from a headband embedded in her back. She picks at the headband and I guess one day a few fell right down the back of the cast and got stuck. She also had some grass and unknown other items down there too. The nurse and I rubbed her down really well with a warm washcloth. Sally just kept repeating, "Ahhhh, more, more!"
That night she sat in the tub for a long time and I scrubbed and scrubbed. It was disgusting. She was ecstatic about taking a bath after so many weeks of just dipping her toes in.
Four more days until surgery...
September 26, 2008
Final MRI
My week started out rough. On Monday, my cat gifted us with a chipmunk. As I was trying to figure out what to do with the carcass, the little bugger jumped up and started racing around my living room. I screamed...for at least 10 minutes straight. The worst thing was I called Seth during the drama and thought he didn't answer-so I was screaming then hung up on him. The kids and I stood on the deck watching our cat chase this chipmunk through the dining room into the kitchen. At one point it tried to come out of the screen onto the deck with us--which lead to louder shrieking by me. I finally opened the screen door to see where it was and it came blazing out from under the table with the cat close behind. The phone was ringing in my hand and as I answered it, the stinkin' chipmunk ran for freedom right between my feet. I was SCREAMING and Seth was shouting into the phone, "Are you alright?!" Obviously, I had terrified him and finally mustered a "Chipmunk! House!" I'm embarrassed to admit to all that screaming, but I couldn't help myself. Seth calmly said, "I can't believe it. I'm hanging up now." Then I calmly turned to the kids and said, "Do you feel like you are stuck in a Disney movie?" I never would have thought that animals ran between screaming women's feet in real life. The chipmunk escaped alive, by the way.
That afternoon, I backed Moby into a mailbox at the piano teacher's house. At the grocery checkout afterwards, I had to leave my groceries on the belt and RUN with Sally to the bathroom because she has a terrible habit of waiting until urine is running down her legs before she mentions needing the facilities.
That was just Monday. Imagine four more days of incidents like that (though no more wild creatures have arrived inside the house). That would lead us to today. Sally has her pre-surgery MRI and CT. Afterwards, while she's still knocked out, her cast is going to be removed. I'm thinking that the guy who cuts it off may need a mask. It stinks so bad that Eli asked last night if worms would come out with it (yuck). Then Everett said, "Nah, not worms, but definitely lots of dirt. Tons of dirt."
Either way it's going to be nasty and they are planning on putting it back on her by wrapping a bandage around it. Personally, I think plans may change once they get a whiff. Like torching the thing the moment it comes off of her body. The doctor is nervous to let her be without it for the next week. So she'll get to take it off to bathe and sleep.
The scans today will give the doctors a last view of what they are dealing with. Hopefully, the abscess will be small and there will be no surprises. We will meet with him on Tuesday to hear his final plans for surgery. We are still praying that both surgeries (on her back and her front) can be completed Thursday. Prayerfully she'll need only a week to recover and then we will be home.
Thank you for your prayers, encouragement, and recipes! You all have been a blessing to me and my family! I'll do my absolute best to update the blog as things happen next week. Please continue to lift Sally up in your prayers as surgery day approaches.
That afternoon, I backed Moby into a mailbox at the piano teacher's house. At the grocery checkout afterwards, I had to leave my groceries on the belt and RUN with Sally to the bathroom because she has a terrible habit of waiting until urine is running down her legs before she mentions needing the facilities.
That was just Monday. Imagine four more days of incidents like that (though no more wild creatures have arrived inside the house). That would lead us to today. Sally has her pre-surgery MRI and CT. Afterwards, while she's still knocked out, her cast is going to be removed. I'm thinking that the guy who cuts it off may need a mask. It stinks so bad that Eli asked last night if worms would come out with it (yuck). Then Everett said, "Nah, not worms, but definitely lots of dirt. Tons of dirt."
Either way it's going to be nasty and they are planning on putting it back on her by wrapping a bandage around it. Personally, I think plans may change once they get a whiff. Like torching the thing the moment it comes off of her body. The doctor is nervous to let her be without it for the next week. So she'll get to take it off to bathe and sleep.
The scans today will give the doctors a last view of what they are dealing with. Hopefully, the abscess will be small and there will be no surprises. We will meet with him on Tuesday to hear his final plans for surgery. We are still praying that both surgeries (on her back and her front) can be completed Thursday. Prayerfully she'll need only a week to recover and then we will be home.
Thank you for your prayers, encouragement, and recipes! You all have been a blessing to me and my family! I'll do my absolute best to update the blog as things happen next week. Please continue to lift Sally up in your prayers as surgery day approaches.
September 20, 2008
My Questions for You
We've got less than two weeks until surgery day. I'm making lists. They aren't productive lists though. They are stupid lists. I'm at the point of being overwhelmed beyond productivity. It isn't because I have so much to do. It's because I really don't know what I should be doing. So I've got some questions for you folks. Don't balk. Any opinion would be fine, I won't hold it against you if it isn't even a good, honest one. How's that for encouragement?
#1 I'm looking at one week, maybe two weeks, but possibly even a month or more in the hospital with Sally. I have my mother, my in laws, and my husband for help with our four non-hospitalized kids. That means they need meals. It could possibly be just 7 dinners (fending for breakfast and lunch is easy) but could be around a month of meals. Anyone have easy ideas for meals that I can freeze? Kid-friendly, but really easy for me to prep (remember, I've only got 11 days left) and just pop it in the oven and go? I'm willing to experiment with all kinds of crazy food, but I'm not about to leave my mom trying to convince Eli that he should eat the spinach stuffed shells.
#2 I haven't had a child in the hospital (excluding emergency room visits) so I don't know what to expect for a long term stay. Anyone have any advice on what to bring/do for Sally? How about advice on explaining surgery and hospitalization to a child who doesn't have a firm grasp of English? We've already read "Maisy goes to the hospital" about 1,568 times. Any other suggestions?
#3 What about the kids who have to stay at home? What kinds of things can I do now to prepare them? And (this is just merely because I'm curious) should I make them do school?
I'm making myself crazy. I feel like I'm getting ready to leave the country, but the hospital is only a scant 5 minutes away. I'll be coming home. Our kids will be coming to the hospital. My family can call if they can't find the casserole dishes. Though I'm planning on contributing to a landfill by supplying paper products for the time that others are responsible for maintaining sanity around here. Loving on the kids will be enough, I don't need to ask them to run the dishwasher...or cook...or wash clothes...or clean the bathrooms...
I appreciate all of you--your emails and comments have been so encouraging! I'm actually writing this post because so many of you were so helpful with the "stinky urine soaked cast" issue. I figured a bunch of genius' like you could help me a little more! Looking forward to hearing from you again!
Just to give you an idea of my mental state: I bought 15 jars of peanut butter today because they were on sale and (here's the kicker) "I don't want anyone to run out of peanut butter while I'm at the hospital." We do eat a lot of peanut butter, but I don't think we will be running out until 2015 much less in the next month.
#1 I'm looking at one week, maybe two weeks, but possibly even a month or more in the hospital with Sally. I have my mother, my in laws, and my husband for help with our four non-hospitalized kids. That means they need meals. It could possibly be just 7 dinners (fending for breakfast and lunch is easy) but could be around a month of meals. Anyone have easy ideas for meals that I can freeze? Kid-friendly, but really easy for me to prep (remember, I've only got 11 days left) and just pop it in the oven and go? I'm willing to experiment with all kinds of crazy food, but I'm not about to leave my mom trying to convince Eli that he should eat the spinach stuffed shells.
#2 I haven't had a child in the hospital (excluding emergency room visits) so I don't know what to expect for a long term stay. Anyone have any advice on what to bring/do for Sally? How about advice on explaining surgery and hospitalization to a child who doesn't have a firm grasp of English? We've already read "Maisy goes to the hospital" about 1,568 times. Any other suggestions?
#3 What about the kids who have to stay at home? What kinds of things can I do now to prepare them? And (this is just merely because I'm curious) should I make them do school?
I'm making myself crazy. I feel like I'm getting ready to leave the country, but the hospital is only a scant 5 minutes away. I'll be coming home. Our kids will be coming to the hospital. My family can call if they can't find the casserole dishes. Though I'm planning on contributing to a landfill by supplying paper products for the time that others are responsible for maintaining sanity around here. Loving on the kids will be enough, I don't need to ask them to run the dishwasher...or cook...or wash clothes...or clean the bathrooms...
I appreciate all of you--your emails and comments have been so encouraging! I'm actually writing this post because so many of you were so helpful with the "stinky urine soaked cast" issue. I figured a bunch of genius' like you could help me a little more! Looking forward to hearing from you again!
Just to give you an idea of my mental state: I bought 15 jars of peanut butter today because they were on sale and (here's the kicker) "I don't want anyone to run out of peanut butter while I'm at the hospital." We do eat a lot of peanut butter, but I don't think we will be running out until 2015 much less in the next month.
September 15, 2008
Run in with an escalator
Today I found myself in a department store. With my children. I could probably end there and just let your imagination run wild with the antics that might take place when one woman takes five children into a department store. Reality can be so much more entertaining.
We just left the dentist. I should have gone directly home and taken a nap. But, Everett needs a pair of slacks for church. I decide that stopping at the department store wouldn't be a bad idea. I must have lost my mind. Every time I get home from an "event" I always forget about the looks, questions, and conversations that take place while I'm out. We are a spectacle. Five kids walking around with one adult would get some stares. One Asian child, two African children, and two white children walking around with one adult gets quite a few stares. Add to it that one child is in a cast up to her neck (talking LOUDLY ALL THE TIME) and we get more than looks. It's almost as if the Muzak in the background screeches off while we walk by.
We get into the store and ride the escalator to the second floor. Now, I realize that escalators can be dangerous. I've heard the 'crocs stuck in the escalator' stories. But they are high fun for kids. Especially the kid that hasn't been on an escalator since the plane trip home from Ethiopia. We shop, I see the prices, we get ready to leave. Our trip up to the second floor was so easy that I don't consider how careful I need to be on the ride back down. We are all seasoned riders now, right? I don't realize that you can't see how high you are as you ride up. Looking from the second floor down a moving staircase is terrifying.
Ella got on and then I stepped on (with baby in sling) and Sally ripped her hand out of mine and froze. I'm going down...down...down. Three of my kids are standing at the top. For a split second I consider running up the down...but I'm not Lara Croft. So I start yelling (this is more my modus operandi), "Everett stay with them! You guys just stay there! I'll be right back! But, GRACIOUS STEP AWAY FROM THE ESCALATOR BEFORE YOU FALL!!"
I slowly turn around as they step away and meet the stares of the entire cosmetics department. All conversation has ceased. All eyes are on me. Ho hum, nothing to see here folks. I'll just be running over to the other escalator. For fun.
I almost told Ella to stand by the earrings and wait (she was slowing me down) until I got my wits about me. Telling this child to stay put would be idiotic. Once, I gave a spiel about taking candy from strangers, helping to search for lost puppies, etc. After my 30 minute talk about stranger danger, I asked her what we say to strangers who offer us candy. Her reply, "Thank you!" Yep, can't leave her alone. Ever.
Ella and I get back onto the escalator and as I'm pulling her around the corner I hear this thumping noise. It's my other three kids who have overcome their fear of escalators and found out that playing with the rubber black handrail can be quite entertaining. Just as I'm almost to them, two concerned clerks approach them. And why wouldn't they? Three kids alone playing on the escalator? Sounds negligent to me. Dangerous even. I think I hear children's services being called as I grab two sets of hands and pull them onto the escalators. We safely make it down and I try to hold my head high as we make our exit. Sans new slacks and sanity.
We just left the dentist. I should have gone directly home and taken a nap. But, Everett needs a pair of slacks for church. I decide that stopping at the department store wouldn't be a bad idea. I must have lost my mind. Every time I get home from an "event" I always forget about the looks, questions, and conversations that take place while I'm out. We are a spectacle. Five kids walking around with one adult would get some stares. One Asian child, two African children, and two white children walking around with one adult gets quite a few stares. Add to it that one child is in a cast up to her neck (talking LOUDLY ALL THE TIME) and we get more than looks. It's almost as if the Muzak in the background screeches off while we walk by.
We get into the store and ride the escalator to the second floor. Now, I realize that escalators can be dangerous. I've heard the 'crocs stuck in the escalator' stories. But they are high fun for kids. Especially the kid that hasn't been on an escalator since the plane trip home from Ethiopia. We shop, I see the prices, we get ready to leave. Our trip up to the second floor was so easy that I don't consider how careful I need to be on the ride back down. We are all seasoned riders now, right? I don't realize that you can't see how high you are as you ride up. Looking from the second floor down a moving staircase is terrifying.
Ella got on and then I stepped on (with baby in sling) and Sally ripped her hand out of mine and froze. I'm going down...down...down. Three of my kids are standing at the top. For a split second I consider running up the down...but I'm not Lara Croft. So I start yelling (this is more my modus operandi), "Everett stay with them! You guys just stay there! I'll be right back! But, GRACIOUS STEP AWAY FROM THE ESCALATOR BEFORE YOU FALL!!"
I slowly turn around as they step away and meet the stares of the entire cosmetics department. All conversation has ceased. All eyes are on me. Ho hum, nothing to see here folks. I'll just be running over to the other escalator. For fun.
I almost told Ella to stand by the earrings and wait (she was slowing me down) until I got my wits about me. Telling this child to stay put would be idiotic. Once, I gave a spiel about taking candy from strangers, helping to search for lost puppies, etc. After my 30 minute talk about stranger danger, I asked her what we say to strangers who offer us candy. Her reply, "Thank you!" Yep, can't leave her alone. Ever.
Ella and I get back onto the escalator and as I'm pulling her around the corner I hear this thumping noise. It's my other three kids who have overcome their fear of escalators and found out that playing with the rubber black handrail can be quite entertaining. Just as I'm almost to them, two concerned clerks approach them. And why wouldn't they? Three kids alone playing on the escalator? Sounds negligent to me. Dangerous even. I think I hear children's services being called as I grab two sets of hands and pull them onto the escalators. We safely make it down and I try to hold my head high as we make our exit. Sans new slacks and sanity.
September 8, 2008
Just for Auntie Gayle
Almost exactly one month ago we celebrated a wonderful event in our backyard. My Father-in-law (aka Popop) had his birthday. I won't disclose his age. My Mom told me the other day that '50 is the new 30' so that means that there are still many more years of wrestling with kids for dear old Popop.
Popop pictured with the grand kids (don't mind the man hiding behind the baby, Josiah regularly levitates).
We were joined by Aunt Gayle and Uncle Dale. I'm certain that they were completely and utterly overwhelmed by our obnoxious exuberant brood. (It doesn't matter how you slice it; five kids equals madness when compared to a household of two). We managed to put on quite a showstopper of an afternoon. Entertainment included high diving by Ella and Eli, pouting from a master-in-training (Salomae), and amazing eating feats by Josiah. Sadly, this could only be found exciting to those closely related to our prodigies. I saved the day by providing corn-on-the-cob. Who knew that Auntie Gayle was such a fan? It only took about 3 hours to grill on our slower than molasses contraption called a gas grill that your husband refuses to fix so you can just dump charcoal in it and grill that way. For years. And wonder why you even bother to grill at all.
Eli working his wonders as he flops (on his knees) into the pool from a standing position on the slide.
That said, Aunt Gayle must have been charmed because as she was screaming out of the driveway leaving; she gave me a gift for the kids. I promised her that I'd let her know what I decided to do with her 'little gift'. Drum roll please...
We threw the kids a party.
Once I thought about it, I figured they didn't need more toys (though they would have been happy with that). It's back to school time. I was feeling a little sad for my kids as they watch their friends getting ready for a new school year. So I told the kids we'd have a party for them and some of their home schooled friends. Auntie Gayle made it happen. Complete with water balloons, grilled hot dogs (why did I bother, the microwave would have been fine), sand, bubbles...and chocolate. They had a blast. I think Aunt Gayle might have enjoyed it--just picture Popop's birthday but add another 20 children (and water balloons). You get the idea.
September 4, 2008
Happy Birthday, Everett!
It's hard to believe, but Everett is eight. I'm a downright mean Mother/Teacher and made him have school on his birthday. I'm a wimp disguised as a meanie. I made him 'do' math (easy, peasy since it's the beginning of the year) and history (he begged to have history today). We went to a doctor's appointment then visited McD's for lunch (don't start...). On the positive side, since I'm always full to the top of mom guilt, we did take the fast food to the park. We went on a nature scavenger hunt afterwards and made our own kilts when we got home (I'll have to explain that one). I tried to pepper fun into the muck of daily life just for his special day.
The hat is courtesy of Rara and Popop's cross country trip. Seems to scream Vegas to us, but we are unsure of it's origin. One thing is certain, it's a new birthday tradition. For the kids, that is.
So he's eight. I can't believe that I've got an eight-year-old. I remember eight. So he'll remember what happens now. How's that for keeping you honest? Yipes. I'm sorry to say that his birthday present from us was an...xbox. We (head shaking) have joined (sigh) the masses. Do we get credit because we bought it cheap on craig's list from a 16 year old who was upgrading? Still a time waster. Included with the gift is a growing list of rules that have yet to be disclosed (I'm not a total party pooper).
Everett's so happy. His Dad is so happy. So are the siblings. And, I guess...I can try to be happy, too. Or at least put up with it. I think they played with that instead of reading books tonight. Here comes our demise! Happy Birthday, Everett!
The hat is courtesy of Rara and Popop's cross country trip. Seems to scream Vegas to us, but we are unsure of it's origin. One thing is certain, it's a new birthday tradition. For the kids, that is.August 28, 2008
The Vacation Post
I've mentioned it before, but I have a problem with procrastinating. When we got home from our weeklong trip to visit relatives (back in July), I was too busy to actually post about the trip and only managed to write about the poopy trip back. It's been bugging me that I never put up pictures (at least) from the week. Now, we just spent the weekend camping on the lake and I'm thinking that I'll probably end up doing the same thing and just waiting until the pictures become obsolete. Then, I was struck with the grand idea of just putting the favs on here. For posterity and to ease my conscience.
I actually had more pictures posted here, but got frustrated with how they were organized. It may seem a little cluttered or disorganized as a result.
These two are from the rodeo. If you don't "get" what Eli is doing, then read this post from last year and get ready to pee in your pants. If you overlook Peta violations and child safety issues, watching kids bullet out of a corral on a sheep is hilarious. Everett, unfortunately, was too old to participate this year. He was part of the peanut 'somethingorother' where you dig up peanuts for cash. He and about 20 other youngsters raced around in the sawdust and poo digging for bags of peanuts. At the end of the allotted time they were paid a dollar for each bag they found. Delightful, until you, and an entire stadium of onlookers, watch as your eldest and another boy struggle over the last bag. They played tug of war until the sack ripped in half and peanuts spewed everywhere. It did my heart right to see Everett reach into his pail and give that boy one of his bags. I congratulated him on his generosity when he sat down with us. His reply? "Oh, that was his bag, I took it when he dropped it but decided to give it back to him." Oh, okay.
Here's a 'Before' shot of the clan as we decided to take an afternoon stroll. My Dad and Grandma sat this one out (because they are so smart). One minute we are walking across a meadow in the Ozarks and the next minute we are in the jungles of Vietnam (complete with hacking ourselves a path through 6 foot tall bamboo). Thankfully, we had cell phones and called my Dad in for a re
scue.
This is Sally meeting her first fish. It didn't go over so well. Later, she was reclining in my Mom's lap when Ella yanked a fish out of the water so fast that it flew behind her and nearly took Sally's face off. She mentioned that incident just a few days ago. Scarred her for life.
This is my Great, Grandma meeting our new babies for the first time.
I actually had more pictures posted here, but got frustrated with how they were organized. It may seem a little cluttered or disorganized as a result.
These two are from the rodeo. If you don't "get" what Eli is doing, then read this post from last year and get ready to pee in your pants. If you overlook Peta violations and child safety issues, watching kids bullet out of a corral on a sheep is hilarious. Everett, unfortunately, was too old to participate this year. He was part of the peanut 'somethingorother' where you dig up peanuts for cash. He and about 20 other youngsters raced around in the sawdust and poo digging for bags of peanuts. At the end of the allotted time they were paid a dollar for each bag they found. Delightful, until you, and an entire stadium of onlookers, watch as your eldest and another boy struggle over the last bag. They played tug of war until the sack ripped in half and peanuts spewed everywhere. It did my heart right to see Everett reach into his pail and give that boy one of his bags. I congratulated him on his generosity when he sat down with us. His reply? "Oh, that was his bag, I took it when he dropped it but decided to give it back to him." Oh, okay.
Here's a 'Before' shot of the clan as we decided to take an afternoon stroll. My Dad and Grandma sat this one out (because they are so smart). One minute we are walking across a meadow in the Ozarks and the next minute we are in the jungles of Vietnam (complete with hacking ourselves a path through 6 foot tall bamboo). Thankfully, we had cell phones and called my Dad in for a re
scue.This is Sally meeting her first fish. It didn't go over so well. Later, she was reclining in my Mom's lap when Ella yanked a fish out of the water so fast that it flew behind her and nearly took Sally's face off. She mentioned that incident just a few days ago. Scarred her for life.
This is my Great, Grandma meeting our new babies for the first time.
Little, Teeny, Tiny Update
All is well in the land of plaster and foam. Except for the stink of urine that hangs in a cloud around my daughter. I don't think she notices it; so I'm not making it an issue. Don't let her know that I've spread it all over bloggy world, but she wears a pull up to bed. I guess better stated, I could say, she has a pull up around her legs while she sleeps (since the cast keeps us from putting it on her properly). Then, the urine flows up along her back saturating the cast.
We are going to be dealing with the cast for a while. I think we may be stuck at home after next week because of the smell. Really. I think I caught a whiff of it at the surgeon's office (Seth told me that it was Josiah's diaper, but I don't know...).
We had two appointments today. One check up on the cast. "Yep, it's going to get stinky. Hmm, use some masking tape to cover that area and spray her with Febreeze." That isn't too much better than what I was already doing. It's sort of worse, really. I've got a pretty good mental picture and it makes me laugh. The little news-she's going to get the cast off the week before surgery to let her skin get nice and healthy (and CLEAN). That means we have about 4 weeks until it comes off.
The second appointment was with the pediatric surgeon who will be "assisting and helping with access" during the surgery. He answered our questions very thoroughly and reassured us that we are in very good hands. He also went into detail about the surgery and where they are going to be cutting, etc. but I'll avoid discussing that since...do we really need to go there?
We are going to be dealing with the cast for a while. I think we may be stuck at home after next week because of the smell. Really. I think I caught a whiff of it at the surgeon's office (Seth told me that it was Josiah's diaper, but I don't know...).
We had two appointments today. One check up on the cast. "Yep, it's going to get stinky. Hmm, use some masking tape to cover that area and spray her with Febreeze." That isn't too much better than what I was already doing. It's sort of worse, really. I've got a pretty good mental picture and it makes me laugh. The little news-she's going to get the cast off the week before surgery to let her skin get nice and healthy (and CLEAN). That means we have about 4 weeks until it comes off.
The second appointment was with the pediatric surgeon who will be "assisting and helping with access" during the surgery. He answered our questions very thoroughly and reassured us that we are in very good hands. He also went into detail about the surgery and where they are going to be cutting, etc. but I'll avoid discussing that since...do we really need to go there?
August 20, 2008
Week in Pictues
So much happened this week and I can't begin to write about it all. I'm overwhelmed with tasks at home and would really like to. sit. still. Everyone keeps asking me, "Have you been watching the Olympics?"
"You fool, why are you taking my picture in this thing?" She's a little grumpy upon realizing that it's a permanent piece of equipment. So much happier after eating and getting dressed...still looking awfully uncomfortable. Did you notice the handy 'Thanksgiving meal' hole in Sally's cast--they think of everything, don't they?
Huh? Remind yourself what you are asking. "Have you managed to get prepared for school, deal with medical issues, doctor visits, house cleaning, cooking, taking care of kids, and spending a moment with your husband and then sit down in front of the TV and watch other people being active since you didn't get to run today?" Yeah, not so much.
I caught a glimpse of the rowing while waiting at a restaurant 2 weeks ago. I enjoyed that while I could (since rowing holds a special place in my heart). I've enjoyed hearing about it, but end up feeling guilty since we haven't seen a lick of the games at home. Guilty about NOT watching TV; something is wrong with that.
Anyway--now that I've wasted all that time that I could have actually written about our week, I'll post the pictures--THAT I PROMPTLY DELETED FROM MY MEMORY STICK. I can't believe it. Looks like I'll be re-taking "first day of school pictures" today (day 3). Honestly, I'm a buffoon.
We started school on Monday. It was a little chaotic, but actually went well. I think the kids enjoyed themselves. They were THRILLED, I'll say it again for emphasis, THRILLED with school starting because they've been locked out of the basement for weeks. I did that last year with much success. It adds to the anticipation. Sally clamored for workbooks and pencils and the like so she caused no problems (on day 2 she grabbed a phonics workbook from Eli's stash and was just about to get going with a marker when I stopped her--she's an eager learner). Josiah played, ate, and napped. He did just what I had scheduled.
Tuesday, I realized that we wouldn't see Salomae's back as it is again. Ever. She's in a cast, she won't come out of the cast until surgery. Then she'll be back into a cast and hopefully heal up without a bump. So I took some pictures while she napped. So sneaky.
Today, she had her casting. It's not pretty, folks. She hasn't lost her ability to grin, but she can't move her head at all. AT ALL. She ate cheerios for 'lunch' when we got home (they knocked her out this morning to do the casting so she did without breakfast). Have you ever tried to eat cheerios without looking at the bowl? Her self-feeding skills aren't that graceful in the first place, but it's genuinely a mess now. We also can't figure out if she should sit or stand. She's got this space-age seat belt that lets her lie down on the seat of the van. She's not happy there, but terribly uncomfortable in her car seat. Everything seems to be a choice between the lesser of two evils. And she,"...wants this thing off and her brace back. Thankyouverymuch."
"You fool, why are you taking my picture in this thing?" She's a little grumpy upon realizing that it's a permanent piece of equipment. So much happier after eating and getting dressed...still looking awfully uncomfortable. Did you notice the handy 'Thanksgiving meal' hole in Sally's cast--they think of everything, don't they?After a day like today, I decided to just go ahead and bring the girls (and Josiah) to the salon. On a whim (sort of), I hacked my hair off. I'm tired of looking like a tired, frumpy, mom of five. I can't do anything about the tired and five kids, but a limp ponytail? So I cut it off. Ella was so excited, but when it was her turn she bawled. I made her get a trim nonetheless. I'm a meanie. And I'm lazy and didn't want to cut her hair myself. Sally really wanted a hair cut, but she doesn't really have much hair to start with. Considering the gal had to cut my hair while I held a squirmy 10 month old; she did a good job. Photo taken by Salomae in such a manner that you can't admire my hair aside from seeing that most of it is gone. Finally.
That has been our week. I just realized its only Wednesday.
August 17, 2008
The Date Has Been Set
I've been distracted since Thursday.
When my dad was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago, I remember stumbling through my day wondering how everything could still be so normal. I felt like I should be wearing a scarlet "C" on my shirt so anyone I met could understand what was going on in my life. The day after I found out, I was running with a friend and the normalcy of what we were doing struck me. I finally blurted out, "My dad has cancer."
So I'm doing that right now-with this post-I'm blurting out, "My daughter's spine is disintegrating and she's having surgery in six weeks."
Thursday was our monthly check-up with our orthopedic surgeon. We did not get good news. I had a feeling things weren't going to be good. Salomae hasn't been able to stand up without her brace on. Every morning she calls out, "Mommy, brace on!"
We had x-rays without the brace, then waited for the doctor. He came in and examined Sally. Then he sat down and I've selectively forgotten everything that followed after the statement, "We need to do surgery within the next 4-6 weeks."
I recall asking about our trip to the beach that we planned for the end of September. Like an idiot. I have been working on this trip, planning to start our school year early (tomorrow) and go to the beach late because of Seth's work schedule. I wanted this trip because I'm afraid that next summer my daughter may not be able to walk in the sand or play in the water. Of course, I didn't say that to the doctor. I wouldn't have made it very far into the explanation without breaking down and bawling.
We knew it was coming, but I had put it out of my mind. I hoped that Sally would have more time with us before we throw her life into a tailspin. Last month the curvature of her spine was at a 32 degree angle. On Thursday, her vertebrae were curved at 67 degrees. It's obvious that we can't wait much longer before something has to be done. The more her back curves, the more her spinal cord stretches and the harder it will be to repair later (if she doesn't suffer neurological deficits beforehand). Her doctor wants to put her in a cast this week (Wednesday) that will go from her hips to her neck. His hope is that this will keep her where she is until surgery (October 2).
During surgery, he will take her tenth rib and rotate it around so that it supports her infected vertebrae. The rib will still have a blood supply and will eventually form one bone mass where her weak vertebrae were. Then, he will put hooks along the outside of her back to give her more support and pull her back up some. We are praying that he can perform both surgeries in one day for obvious reasons. Otherwise, she will undergo the strut graft (rib to vertebrae surgery) and recover for a week then the next surgery. There are about a million things that could go wrong. I'm trying not to think about them, but finding myself slipping into this 'what if' place.
I can't help but think about Isaac in California. Watching his story unfold over the past 6 weeks has been terrifying. My kids have been especially touched and pray nightly for his health and recovery. I spoke with Jocelyn (Isaac's mom) on Friday night and she reassured me that Sally is in as good a spot as we could hope. Sally's case isn't as bad as Isaac's. I know of two other cases in the US recently and there were complications in both. Considering the odds, I don't think we can expect Sally to go in for surgery and leave the hospital the next week. I'm not normally a pessimist, but I've got to plan for at least 3 weeks in the hospital with my daughter. I'm thanking God that my Mom and in-laws are retired and willing to come up and help. I'm thankful that this doctor is five minutes from our house. I'm thankful that Sally is here and not in Ethiopia suffering with Pott's disease. But I'm still scared and wondering how things will be in a few months.
Friday morning, Everett came downstairs before anyone else was awake. The first words out of his mouth were, "I should have what Sally has instead of her."
I wasn't sure where he was going with this and asked, "Why do you say that?"
"Because it would be better for me to be sick and in the hospital instead of her. Or you, or Daddy could have it. Just not her."
I cried.
When my dad was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago, I remember stumbling through my day wondering how everything could still be so normal. I felt like I should be wearing a scarlet "C" on my shirt so anyone I met could understand what was going on in my life. The day after I found out, I was running with a friend and the normalcy of what we were doing struck me. I finally blurted out, "My dad has cancer."
So I'm doing that right now-with this post-I'm blurting out, "My daughter's spine is disintegrating and she's having surgery in six weeks."
Thursday was our monthly check-up with our orthopedic surgeon. We did not get good news. I had a feeling things weren't going to be good. Salomae hasn't been able to stand up without her brace on. Every morning she calls out, "Mommy, brace on!"
We had x-rays without the brace, then waited for the doctor. He came in and examined Sally. Then he sat down and I've selectively forgotten everything that followed after the statement, "We need to do surgery within the next 4-6 weeks."
I recall asking about our trip to the beach that we planned for the end of September. Like an idiot. I have been working on this trip, planning to start our school year early (tomorrow) and go to the beach late because of Seth's work schedule. I wanted this trip because I'm afraid that next summer my daughter may not be able to walk in the sand or play in the water. Of course, I didn't say that to the doctor. I wouldn't have made it very far into the explanation without breaking down and bawling.
We knew it was coming, but I had put it out of my mind. I hoped that Sally would have more time with us before we throw her life into a tailspin. Last month the curvature of her spine was at a 32 degree angle. On Thursday, her vertebrae were curved at 67 degrees. It's obvious that we can't wait much longer before something has to be done. The more her back curves, the more her spinal cord stretches and the harder it will be to repair later (if she doesn't suffer neurological deficits beforehand). Her doctor wants to put her in a cast this week (Wednesday) that will go from her hips to her neck. His hope is that this will keep her where she is until surgery (October 2).
During surgery, he will take her tenth rib and rotate it around so that it supports her infected vertebrae. The rib will still have a blood supply and will eventually form one bone mass where her weak vertebrae were. Then, he will put hooks along the outside of her back to give her more support and pull her back up some. We are praying that he can perform both surgeries in one day for obvious reasons. Otherwise, she will undergo the strut graft (rib to vertebrae surgery) and recover for a week then the next surgery. There are about a million things that could go wrong. I'm trying not to think about them, but finding myself slipping into this 'what if' place.
I can't help but think about Isaac in California. Watching his story unfold over the past 6 weeks has been terrifying. My kids have been especially touched and pray nightly for his health and recovery. I spoke with Jocelyn (Isaac's mom) on Friday night and she reassured me that Sally is in as good a spot as we could hope. Sally's case isn't as bad as Isaac's. I know of two other cases in the US recently and there were complications in both. Considering the odds, I don't think we can expect Sally to go in for surgery and leave the hospital the next week. I'm not normally a pessimist, but I've got to plan for at least 3 weeks in the hospital with my daughter. I'm thanking God that my Mom and in-laws are retired and willing to come up and help. I'm thankful that this doctor is five minutes from our house. I'm thankful that Sally is here and not in Ethiopia suffering with Pott's disease. But I'm still scared and wondering how things will be in a few months.
Friday morning, Everett came downstairs before anyone else was awake. The first words out of his mouth were, "I should have what Sally has instead of her."
I wasn't sure where he was going with this and asked, "Why do you say that?"
"Because it would be better for me to be sick and in the hospital instead of her. Or you, or Daddy could have it. Just not her."
I cried.
August 13, 2008
A Quarter Inch of Happiness
My friend, the gal I previously mentioned that could write a cat blog, keeps me on my toes. She sends me emails with blog REQUESTS. I don't know if that is legal in bloggy world, but I allow her to do it. More often than not, I pacify her (lest she stop reading my blog) and do whatever she tells me. So she asked for an update on Ella, our goddess of drama and gorging herself on food. She's taking Depakote for her epilepsy. And that is that.
She's having seizures, but they are...less noticeable. She doesn't have grand Mal seizures, her's are a flutter of her eyes and losing a few seconds. Before the meds they happened a dozen times a day. Maybe more. Always more if she didn't get enough sleep or wasdoing math with mom stressed. So I guess she's better off. I think. It's only a few times a day. Ugh. But that is NOT what this post is about...
Before we went to Ethiopia, Ella was getting her shoes on and came running into the kitchen. She stood in front of me, quite determined, and said, "I want another leg. I want two feet. Like Eli and Everett has. I want a foot like this 'real' foot I have."
Oh dear me. What to do, what to say. I've been dreading this day. So, I start with, "Well, why do you want another foot like that?"
"Because I want wear flip flops."
Relief. This isn't so serious after all.
"Wha...Hmmm. You've got flip flops," Me, leading her to the Birkenstock sandals that are strappy.
"No, I want it go in my toes. Like Everett and Eli have. I show you." She runs off to show me a 'true' flip flop. I obviously already know what a flip flop looks like and that indeed it does go between your toes. Unfortunately, her prosthetic foot is a mold of toes, all one piece, and honestly in pretty bad shape. At that point, the toes were just barely hanging on.
She runs, breathless, into her bedroom with a flip flop on her right foot. A camo flip flop. "See?" she says, "Between my toes. I want this."
It goes on and I promise that we can look for some shoes with a thingy between the toes. I'm planning to just cut the 'thingy' and have straps holding the shoes on around the ankle or something. I'm pretty crafty, you see. Or ghetto, depends on who you talk to.
Months pass, we go to Ethiopia and come home. We are busy now. Real busy. And Ella's toes are held on with a variety of colored duct tape. The replacement foot we ordered before I left for Africa never arrived. An insurance glitch that would get fixed in August. This was June. So we left that leg man and found another.
This guy is the man of Ella's dreams. He took one look at her sad leg and said she needed a replacement leg, not just a foot. And he ordered her a foot with toes that are separated for flip flop wearing gals like her. She loves him, I think. She drew him a picture with cats on it. She adores him. And we went shopping for flip flops that day. Even though it took about a month for the leg to get done. She can't keep the stinkin' shoes on, but she wears them when I let her.
She's having seizures, but they are...less noticeable. She doesn't have grand Mal seizures, her's are a flutter of her eyes and losing a few seconds. Before the meds they happened a dozen times a day. Maybe more. Always more if she didn't get enough sleep or was
Before we went to Ethiopia, Ella was getting her shoes on and came running into the kitchen. She stood in front of me, quite determined, and said, "I want another leg. I want two feet. Like Eli and Everett has. I want a foot like this 'real' foot I have."
Oh dear me. What to do, what to say. I've been dreading this day. So, I start with, "Well, why do you want another foot like that?"
"Because I want wear flip flops."
Relief. This isn't so serious after all.
"Wha...Hmmm. You've got flip flops," Me, leading her to the Birkenstock sandals that are strappy.
"No, I want it go in my toes. Like Everett and Eli have. I show you." She runs off to show me a 'true' flip flop. I obviously already know what a flip flop looks like and that indeed it does go between your toes. Unfortunately, her prosthetic foot is a mold of toes, all one piece, and honestly in pretty bad shape. At that point, the toes were just barely hanging on.
She runs, breathless, into her bedroom with a flip flop on her right foot. A camo flip flop. "See?" she says, "Between my toes. I want this."
It goes on and I promise that we can look for some shoes with a thingy between the toes. I'm planning to just cut the 'thingy' and have straps holding the shoes on around the ankle or something. I'm pretty crafty, you see. Or ghetto, depends on who you talk to.
Months pass, we go to Ethiopia and come home. We are busy now. Real busy. And Ella's toes are held on with a variety of colored duct tape. The replacement foot we ordered before I left for Africa never arrived. An insurance glitch that would get fixed in August. This was June. So we left that leg man and found another.
This guy is the man of Ella's dreams. He took one look at her sad leg and said she needed a replacement leg, not just a foot. And he ordered her a foot with toes that are separated for flip flop wearing gals like her. She loves him, I think. She drew him a picture with cats on it. She adores him. And we went shopping for flip flops that day. Even though it took about a month for the leg to get done. She can't keep the stinkin' shoes on, but she wears them when I let her.
August 8, 2008
Traveling Families
Three families from America World are leaving to pick up their children today. These are babies that we photographed and videoed while in Ethiopia. I can't believe how much they have changed and I'm so excited to see them coming home. Here are the blogs of their families: Wesley's family , Levi's family, and Zamara's family. If you go back a few posts you can see pictures of their cuties from court day. I made Zamara cry and then videoed it, you can watch my wretched hand reach out and she starts bawling. A sure high point in my life as videographer for waiting families. Ugh.
August 6, 2008
True Confessions
I started thinking about the pedastal that I've been put on and decided that I needed to do a post that lets you in on a little secret. So get ready for me to knock your socks off...
I'm not a perfect mom.
Lest you think I'm a superhero or Kate (of reality tv fame) I want to tell you that I am indeed a regular mom with regular problems (that more often than not involve some kind of child's bodily fluids). I'm thinking the best way for me to let you in on my reality is by making some confessions. Here we go:
1- My kids eat at McDonald's. Gasp. It is true. It doesn't happen on a weekly basis, but sometimes I've been known to make a drive thru appearance at the local McD's. Salomae ate a burger with a side of 5 nuggets last week. She's a true carnivore.
2- I don't order Happy Meals. They are too expensive. Yeah, we are that cheap. And did you know that there isn't a "Burger with side of nuggets" option?
3- I'm pretty selfish. I try to be, anyway. The other day, while weeding the garden with the kids, I noticed that there were raspberries ready to pick. I meandered over to the bushes and picked them. Then, in a moment of sheer selfishness, I decided to eat them all as fast as I could and NOT SHARE THEM WITH MY KIDS. Yeah. Didn't work because their 'Mommy is doing something fun' radars went off. I ate one raspberry before I was spotted and the masses converged on me to eat the rest of my bounty.
4- I can't do imaginary play. I just can't. I've tried. A few weeks ago I ran around in the backyard neighing like a horse being chased by four cougars. I couldn't get into it. I'd rather read a book.
5- Sometimes I get annoyed. That doesn't need an explanation.
6- Occasionally, while in Moby, during a particularly irritating spat between children, I will unroll all of the windows and blast whatever music happens to be on at the time. It feels good and the kids stop arguing. I think they do, but I can't hear them so does it matter? I've gotten some pretty strange looks as we pull up to a light with Vivaldi blaring.
7- I don't dust. I rarely iron. I don't particularly enjoy folding clothes (I 'wad' more than I fold). My kids socks aren't all that white. If we can even find two that match. I have a hamper full of socks without mates.
8- I don't wipe out Sally's brace with alcohol EVERY night like the orthodics guy told me to. She does wear a clean undershirt (changed after naps because she's so sweaty all of the time).
9- While on the cleanliness confessional kick: If they are clean, I don't make my kids take a bath every night.
10- I have actually yelled at my children.
There you have it folks. The bare naked truth. See, I'm pretty normal. By the grace of God my children will survive their childhood and as adults dote on me and call me blessed.
I'm not a perfect mom.
Lest you think I'm a superhero or Kate (of reality tv fame) I want to tell you that I am indeed a regular mom with regular problems (that more often than not involve some kind of child's bodily fluids). I'm thinking the best way for me to let you in on my reality is by making some confessions. Here we go:
1- My kids eat at McDonald's. Gasp. It is true. It doesn't happen on a weekly basis, but sometimes I've been known to make a drive thru appearance at the local McD's. Salomae ate a burger with a side of 5 nuggets last week. She's a true carnivore.
2- I don't order Happy Meals. They are too expensive. Yeah, we are that cheap. And did you know that there isn't a "Burger with side of nuggets" option?
3- I'm pretty selfish. I try to be, anyway. The other day, while weeding the garden with the kids, I noticed that there were raspberries ready to pick. I meandered over to the bushes and picked them. Then, in a moment of sheer selfishness, I decided to eat them all as fast as I could and NOT SHARE THEM WITH MY KIDS. Yeah. Didn't work because their 'Mommy is doing something fun' radars went off. I ate one raspberry before I was spotted and the masses converged on me to eat the rest of my bounty.
4- I can't do imaginary play. I just can't. I've tried. A few weeks ago I ran around in the backyard neighing like a horse being chased by four cougars. I couldn't get into it. I'd rather read a book.
5- Sometimes I get annoyed. That doesn't need an explanation.
6- Occasionally, while in Moby, during a particularly irritating spat between children, I will unroll all of the windows and blast whatever music happens to be on at the time. It feels good and the kids stop arguing. I think they do, but I can't hear them so does it matter? I've gotten some pretty strange looks as we pull up to a light with Vivaldi blaring.
7- I don't dust. I rarely iron. I don't particularly enjoy folding clothes (I 'wad' more than I fold). My kids socks aren't all that white. If we can even find two that match. I have a hamper full of socks without mates.
8- I don't wipe out Sally's brace with alcohol EVERY night like the orthodics guy told me to. She does wear a clean undershirt (changed after naps because she's so sweaty all of the time).
9- While on the cleanliness confessional kick: If they are clean, I don't make my kids take a bath every night.
10- I have actually yelled at my children.
There you have it folks. The bare naked truth. See, I'm pretty normal. By the grace of God my children will survive their childhood and as adults dote on me and call me blessed.
August 5, 2008
4 o'clock daily
Every weekday at 4 pm the health department nurse knocks softly at my door. I let her in and she watches me administer four anti-TB medications to Salomae. Then she leaves. As simple as that. She's a nice lady and Sally expects her arrival daily.
Secretly, I hold a grudge against the program that doesn't trust us to consistently medicate our sick child. I understand the need for the government to check up on all the TB carriers in the area. If people don't take their meds, we could have a pretty serious problem on our hands. We comply by opening our home, begrudgingly. Do I sound a wee bit perturbed? Do you want someone to come to your house everyday? Just as naps are ending and sweet solitude is closing for the day.
I check the clock and wake Sally up. We talk in hushed tones to keep Ella asleep for as long as she needs. "Did you pee pee in your pull-up?" She giggles and always replies no even when I can see the rust colored urine staining the diaper. She scampers into clean panties and a clean undershirt. Then I strap on her brace. And I hear a knock on the door. Since 'pictures are worth a thousand words...'
Here's Sally's debut in 'nasty faces you can make while taking nasty medicines'. Well worth an Oscar.
On the technical, medical side: The sample of fluid from Salomae's back came back positive for TB. No big news there, but the fact that they got a culture to grow is good. That was sent off to the state which tested it for drug sensitivity. We got those results last week and Sally's TB is drug sensitive (NOT resistant to the drugs she's taking). Which means we can drop off one of the meds--now she's down to three. In another month we should be able to drop another one.
Secretly, I hold a grudge against the program that doesn't trust us to consistently medicate our sick child. I understand the need for the government to check up on all the TB carriers in the area. If people don't take their meds, we could have a pretty serious problem on our hands. We comply by opening our home, begrudgingly. Do I sound a wee bit perturbed? Do you want someone to come to your house everyday? Just as naps are ending and sweet solitude is closing for the day.
I check the clock and wake Sally up. We talk in hushed tones to keep Ella asleep for as long as she needs. "Did you pee pee in your pull-up?" She giggles and always replies no even when I can see the rust colored urine staining the diaper. She scampers into clean panties and a clean undershirt. Then I strap on her brace. And I hear a knock on the door. Since 'pictures are worth a thousand words...'
Here's Sally's debut in 'nasty faces you can make while taking nasty medicines'. Well worth an Oscar.
On the technical, medical side: The sample of fluid from Salomae's back came back positive for TB. No big news there, but the fact that they got a culture to grow is good. That was sent off to the state which tested it for drug sensitivity. We got those results last week and Sally's TB is drug sensitive (NOT resistant to the drugs she's taking). Which means we can drop off one of the meds--now she's down to three. In another month we should be able to drop another one.
July 30, 2008
Three Months
We had our first (of three) post-placement visits with our social worker last week. Yesterday was our official "these kids have been WITH us for three months" day. I believe in some circles that would be 'gotcha day'. Though gotcha day could also be our court day or the day we met or the day we arrived home? Very confusing. In honor of said day, here are some photos.
**I would have posted this yesterday but we have been visiting relatives (which could explain the previous post). Josiah doesn't sleep well outside of our home (anymore). Like averages 4 wake-ups a night. Last night was a special one for me, he woke up every hour from 3:30 on. Lovely.
On with the photos...
Referral picture of Salomae, mid-Feb (aka the grumpiest picture we have of Sally).
'Gotcha Day'--actually this is 'Metcha Day'. Sally missed most of Gotcha Day therefore we don't have a single picture of her on that day. Shameful.
One month home
Two Months home (after picking mulberries in the backyard)
Three months home (after a lady at the hospital said, "Honey, I'm gonna give you my number--I braid hair." So I went to the library and checked out some books and tried MY hand at braiding.)
**I would have posted this yesterday but we have been visiting relatives (which could explain the previous post). Josiah doesn't sleep well outside of our home (anymore). Like averages 4 wake-ups a night. Last night was a special one for me, he woke up every hour from 3:30 on. Lovely.
On with the photos...
Referral picture of Salomae, mid-Feb (aka the grumpiest picture we have of Sally).
'Gotcha Day'--actually this is 'Metcha Day'. Sally missed most of Gotcha Day therefore we don't have a single picture of her on that day. Shameful.One month home
Two Months home (after picking mulberries in the backyard)
Three months home (after a lady at the hospital said, "Honey, I'm gonna give you my number--I braid hair." So I went to the library and checked out some books and tried MY hand at braiding.)
Josiah's referral picture
Gotcha Day with nannies and bunkmates.
Sitting up at one month home.
Two months home (on the hammock).
STANDING UP at the water table last week. Slow down kiddo!
Exhausted...
I'm pretty tired. I didn't realize how tired Eli was until I started talking to him and he didn't reply. This is what I found. Asleep. On the hardwood floor. With his head in the Bible. That he can't read.
So cute.
So sad.
So wish I could trade places with him.
July 21, 2008
Josiah crawls
I'm excited and devastated. I didn't expect it. Somehow he maneuvered his chubbiness onto all fours and...MOVED. Right for my coffee. The joy that I'm raising a fellow coffee lover is lost in the dismay that I will now have to baby proof the house.
Later he 'chased' Everett's legos while everyone shrieked and scrambled to get them out of his way. (Have I mentioned that there is a LOT of shrieking going on around here? The addition of daughter #2 has tripled the shrieking. It seems to be a contagious activity. Like laughing. But louder and more obnoxious.)
It's my 31st birthday. Happy Birthday, Mom, I'm about to make your life very difficult!
Later he 'chased' Everett's legos while everyone shrieked and scrambled to get them out of his way. (Have I mentioned that there is a LOT of shrieking going on around here? The addition of daughter #2 has tripled the shrieking. It seems to be a contagious activity. Like laughing. But louder and more obnoxious.)
It's my 31st birthday. Happy Birthday, Mom, I'm about to make your life very difficult!
July 20, 2008
Cuteness Abounds
I'm parenting solo this Sunday morning. To my surprise everyone is dressed and ready to go (only a few minutes late) to church. And they look adorable. I know it will only last a few minutes. The new braids in Sally's hair will get plucked out, Josiah will undoubtably puke on his outfit, and Ella will brush against the dirty van with her dress. So I take a picture. No time for a photo shoot. Just one try and this is what I got. I know from experience that even after 14 shots one child will be doing what Eli is doing in at least EVERY picture. So, pretend he isn't searching for something in Sally's hair. Pretend he's looking at the camera being handsome. While you're at it, pretend Everett isn't about to drop Josiah on the landscaping blocks below.
July 17, 2008
Our Budding Libertarian
Otherwise known as 'The Day That My Son Actually Turned Into His Father'. We went to the park today. That in and of itself is not exciting. What follows is probably only interesting to those who know Seth. Pretty well.
When we arrived at the park there were all sorts of tree cutting services parked along the street. Felled trees littered the sides of the road--general chaos. Wood chippers are always high excitement to small children so I saw that we'd probably spend some time checking out the heavy machinery. Alas, at the parking lot the business had already been taken care of and all that remained were some logs and stumps.
I'm baffled, by the way, as to WHY the parks service felt like it was important to cut down trees at the already tree-vacant playground. But they made sure that every last tree along the parking area was gone. As we unloaded our madness from the van, I remarked on the tree removal. Expressing my bewilderment to the children, I said, "Why in the world do you think that they would cut these trees down?"
Everett, without missing a beat, replied, "Because the government told them to."
Seth's remark upon hearing this story? "Well, that IS the only logical conclusion. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Which is why he is a libertarian who works for the federal government (and loves a good conspiracy theory).
Like father, like son.
When we arrived at the park there were all sorts of tree cutting services parked along the street. Felled trees littered the sides of the road--general chaos. Wood chippers are always high excitement to small children so I saw that we'd probably spend some time checking out the heavy machinery. Alas, at the parking lot the business had already been taken care of and all that remained were some logs and stumps.
I'm baffled, by the way, as to WHY the parks service felt like it was important to cut down trees at the already tree-vacant playground. But they made sure that every last tree along the parking area was gone. As we unloaded our madness from the van, I remarked on the tree removal. Expressing my bewilderment to the children, I said, "Why in the world do you think that they would cut these trees down?"
Everett, without missing a beat, replied, "Because the government told them to."
Seth's remark upon hearing this story? "Well, that IS the only logical conclusion. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Which is why he is a libertarian who works for the federal government (and loves a good conspiracy theory).
Like father, like son.
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