Recouperating

A week has passed and I didn't even notice. Sally seems to be almost completely back to herself. She's still getting a dose of medication every six hours. She's pleading to ride her bike and go back to church. She still spends part of her day laying on the floor. She drags a quilt around the house and flops down on it when the mood strikes her. Since that won't fly in Sunday School, she's still staying at home on Sundays.

We have had a week of 'normal.' Normal for us may not seem normal for you. We had school at home every morning, went to art lessons, went to the park, and took many, many walks. The madness of our daily lives was delightfully...mundane. Blissful, even.

Josiah's One!

Today our baby turned one. Everett spent most of the day telling him he's too old for...whining, crying, crawling, bottles, etc. With all of the surgery drama I had set myself up for being in the hospital today. I decided that we wouldn't *tell* Josiah that his first birthday was celebrated a week or more later. He had the best gift we could hope for--our family all present as he celebrated his first year. It was nothing fabulous by traditional standards--we will do the hyped up celebration later with extended family. Here's a clip of Josiah on his first birthday...just started walking in the past few days, thinking he's the only reason anyone ever laughs, and generally the most spoiled kid around. We adore this baby...is he still a baby?

Disclaimer: If you are in a public place you may want to do a little volume control. By most standards our house is LOUD. We sing in this clip. I mean, we scream in this clip. Josiah joins in and it gets obnoxious. Also, I had more control over the candle than the video portrays (that's for our social worker, just in case she's watching).

Pictures from the week

I took pictures all week long. Some for Sally, some for our kids at home (I didn't want them to come into ICU and freak out). You've READ about the past week, but pictures are always a nice balance. I'll put them in here chronologically...

Happy and clueless before surgery. She's pretty pumped about the 'fancy duds' we are wearing. The hospital's program allows one parent back in the OR but you've got to be dressed appropriately.

This is what Sally looked like when we got to her in the ICU. I took this and sent it home with my mom so she could let the kids see Sally. We weren't sure if they would be okay visiting her the next day, but they were. She said when Eli woke up on Friday the first thing he said was, "Did you bring a picture of Sally home last night?"

Our first glimpse of a smile. This was the "retake" after she saw her frowning face in another photo. She's without ventilator and various tubes by this point.

Feeling good enough to wear her handmade hospital gown. She got so many compliments on her assorted hospital garb and everyone LOVED her quilt (that's for you, Grandma).
In a moment of drug induced stupor Sally needed Dora to cuddle with her. That's a gigantic Dora balloon, by the way.
First meal in three days. Chicken broth, delightful.
I was a proud mama. All of the children were so brave. They are so little, but came to the hospital and absolutely tried their best to cheer their little sister up. They clamored for her attention and did silly things to make her smile. She adored their brief visits.
My three sisters came through with the one gift I tried to find for Sally before surgery--a Maisy doll. She came in the mail and was delivered by the three kids (who gave all credit to the Aunts). Sally was beside herself (well, as joyful as you can be while in pain and under the influence of drugs).
Seth took this picture because...it's funny. Really, when the nurse brought these diapers in we couldn't stop laughing. I think they are a men's large. Obviously, they didn't work very well. Every nurse that came in had heard about our "explosion". She's in her turtle shell, this is before her permanent casting.
Yesterday in the playroom. Her first time walking since surgery. I couldn't believe that we were even trying it! Thrilled beyond belief, she wanted me to call 'the guys' so they could come and meet her in the playroom.

We are home!

Yesterday, Sally walked down the hallway to the play room. That was our last step to get sent home. Her doctor couldn't believe that he was letting us leave, but we got home yesterday afternoon. The past week has been a blur, but an amazing experience in seeing God answer the prayers of so many people.

In a moment of quiet last night before bed, I told Seth that I couldn't believe this week was over. The past month I've felt like this would be such a traumatic experience it would be 'The Event'. All other hardships would be compared to this and probably fall short. I honestly thought we would have weeks, if not longer, in the hospital. Followed by months of recovery at home.

Seth looked at me and said, "I thought she was going to die."

Sitting on the other side of that, realizing we are back to normalcy. I'm baffled. I'm thankful. I'm ready to cry at any moment. I'm praising God.

Thank you so much for encouraging us. Thank you for being the prayer warriors when I was falling short. For waking up at odd hours and talking to God about Sally when quite possibly that was the moment she was crying out in pain. I can't thank you enough!

Day 6: Out of ICU! Home soon?

We moved late last night from ICU into a regular room. This was a nice step in the right direction. The criteria for her release today was for her to walk and continue to eat and drink; she's done all three so far today. She walked around in the play room and played and painted for a while, then she walked all the way back to the room (a couple hundred yards). So, it looks like we're on target to leave sometime today!

Ortho doctor stopped by to check out his handiwork on Sally's cast. He compared her x-rays after casting to the x-rays immediately after surgery and said they are exactly the same. So, even after all of her rolling, moving, and attempts to dislodge the grafted rib, everything is perfectly in place. She's a little uncomfortable because of how tight her cast is, the belly hole is a little window compared to her last cast. If she complains too much we'll call the 'Cast Man' and he can cut it up some. As he was leaving, the doctor said, "She has done amazing. Usually these kids are in here for a few weeks."

Huh?! We expected about a week, if all went well. I guess usually kids don't do quite as well as her. The PICU nurses were calling her a superstar. She's an amazing, resilient little girl, BUT she has a Father in heaven who works in miraculous ways and we give him all credit and glory for her experience this week. I'm still in awe.

ICU Day 5

We had a good night last night. Sally is stuck in ICU until we can get her pain under control. Last night was the first time that she wasn't crying every hour or two. This morning, we were told that she was having her casting early. It worked out well because she had just had a dose of Tylenol and was "chipper" as we rolled her downstairs to the cast room.

We aren't sure what will happen today after she is in this cast. As far as we know, she will be in ICU for today. We are hopeful that she will be admitted to the regular floor today with plans to leave Thursday.

UPDATE--Sally is in the cast (from chin to hip) and still on target to leave tomorrow or Thursday. I know I'm feeling good about her complete encasement in plaster, but she seems a little 'miffed' about it. No more slipping out of her protective shell at 2 am...

The doc found a fabulous product for her--gortex pantaloons. I snicker at the name, but am overjoyed that she won't soak the cast with urine...today. Next week--maybe, but today the gortex is there protecting it from stinkiness. She will be in a cast for three months, getting it changed out after six weeks.

Right now she's sitting up coloring for the first time since we got here. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude to God for seeing her through this with such an amazing outcome.

ICU- day 4

Last night was beautiful. The upped meds yesterday (and Tylenol by mouth) made an amazing difference in Sally's disposition. Seth went home yesterday to take care of the kids. Sally drifted off most of the day, but when she was awake she was pleasant. We actually had a full conversation for the first time in days:
"Mommy, Rara has earrings. I want earrings, too."
"Maybe when you have your birthday. Then you can be sure you really want them. Ella doesn't want them because it hurts at first."
"For my happy birthday I want them. I want a ring like yours, too." Riiiiight. I feel bad about all this mess, but I'm not about to buy you an engagement ring, dearie.

This morning we eagerly waited for the general surgeon to come in and check out the drainage from Sally's chest tube. When he came in, the PA with him said, "How do you say her name?" He looked over and said, "Haven't you ever read the Bible?" Seth laughed long and hard about that, since Salome (we messed with the spelling to aid pronunciation) is only in there twice.

The surgeon said that she hadn't had hardly anything drain during the night and we could proceed with removing it. Plans for that and casting were made until our ortho doc came in and said he was afraid to put her in a permanent cast since she may...ahem...foul it up. She had a *little* explosive action last night in the diaper she was wearing. It took three of us to get everything cleaned up. Needless to say, putting her into something permanent while she's struggling to get onto the potty is probably a bad idea. So we will wait until tomorrow.

While he was here, he decided to just get rid of the chest tube and central line (stack of IVs coming from her neck). Quite a bit of drama and hysterics involved in that little operation, but we are one step closer to leaving ICU. He said that we should leave the hospital on Wednesday!

ICU day 3

Can it be? Today we are halfway through our hospital stay. We hope. Last night was the worst yet. Sally's developed a tolerance for her pain medications and wasn't on oral medications yet (which last longer). She spent a good part of the night moaning, crying, and chanting something in a language I couldn't understand. I told the nurse she was singing an Ethiopian mourning song and he thought I was serious. Nevertheless, she was upset, we were upset and there wasn't a thing we could do. She wanted to move, move, move and finally moved herself out of her splint to the point of screaming with discomfort. Neither the nurse nor I (in my cognizant state) could understand right away what she was so upset about. Once we saw what had happened I almost lost it. I keep picturing these precariously positioned ribs getting jarred by a false move. We managed to safely manuever her into the splint and she fell asleep.

She got rid of all tubing from her nose yesterday (joy, joy!). Today, she starts eating again. After last night, the doc has started her on codiene by mouth in addition to the IV meds. She took that (with much pleading and prodding) and then had a popsicle. Life is good. She's been waiting for popsicles since Thursday. We haven't heard nary a moan for at least 2 hours. Where was the peace last night?

Still waiting on the chest tube to come out tomorrow (if she keeps up with her great progess) then we can get out of ICU. Not that I'm terribly anxious to get out of here. We've scored the biggest room. We have extra beds so Seth and I can stay in the room all night. The big kids have come by daily to visit with Sally and it's uplifted her spirits to see them. She's trying really hard and so are they. The child life specialists have an activity room and library for the hospitalized kids and siblings. We take turns with one or two kids in ICU while someone else plays in the activity room. That has been a blessing. I probably wouldn't get to see the kids at all if we didn't have that room. They can only sit in a hospital room for so long before anxiety kicks in. Josiah, for obvious reasons, has only been in for a few minutes to see Sally. I took a picture of Sally yesterday with Ella, when she looked at it she made me take another so she could smile. It looks like a grimace, but I'll post it when I get a chance.

ICU doc just visited. She's "doing beautifully". I'm trying not to think about the 'what might have been' and just thank God for what is right now.

ICU-day 2

Sally had a rough night. She's (medically) doing phenomenal, but she's started to get very uncomfortable. She's lucid long enough to start welling up with tears. If she gets to that point the nurse gives her a boost of sedative to calm her down. She's got a continuous drip of pain relief, but sometimes it isn't enough. Last night, Seth took the early shift (until 4 am) while I slept then we switched. Sally slept most of the night, but woke up at least once an hour to ask us to move her. She has this idea that if she can just wiggle off to one side of the bed then she will find relief. So one of us has to be awake to answer her and then grab a nurse to help us roll her to one side.


Today we hope that she can get rid of all tubes coming from her nose (it's good to have goals, especially in the hospital). If she can hold down her stomach juices, then they will take out the stomach tube. It looks like she'll lose a tube a day. Hoping to be out of ICU on Monday.


Here are some pictures from the visit yesterday...





Thank you for your prayers, visits, and emails! Sally has been 'pleased' to hear about everyone praying for her.

Intensive Care-day 1

7:30 am Last night, the doctor pulled Sally off of the paralyzing drugs that she's on and she moved her feet on command! She's doing amazing, breathing with the ventilator and moving her hands and feet. She should be weaned off the ventilator today. Right now she's waking up more often. She's unhappy for obvious reasons. Her hands are tied down and she has tubes everywhere. Her worst enemy is the respiratory therapist who came every hour during the night to suck mucous out of her lungs. Sally would startle awake and thrash her hands during the procedure (that lasts just a few seconds). She is trying to talk to us, but can't. I can't imagine her anger with this since she's the nonstop chatterbox of our house (if you know the other kids this should mean a lot to you). Once the breathing tube comes out she should at least be able to express her anger verbally.

Personally, I was up all night. The nurses came in once an hour to fiddle with her. I jumped out of the chair and ran to Sally every time--that sleepless, middle of the night, stupor that makes you act wild. Seth slept in the room with us. I'll repeat that, he slept. At 5:30 I couldn't bear laying there any longer. I stood next to Sally's bed and lost it. I've held it in for so long. Once I let myself feel relieved about surgery and how well she's doing, I couldn't stop myself from weeping. I'm in a place I never imagined I'd be. I was overwhelmed with thankfulness for God's care and just cried. I was crying, thanking God for all of you who were praying for our daughter yesterday. I was crying because she's been such a trooper and I'm terrified of what today holds for her. Then, Sally woke up. With clarity, she looked right at me.

I couldn't stop myself and couldn't talk. I was caught by her doing the one thing that I wasn't allowed to do with her watching--bawling my eyes out. Seth came over (chiding me) while I tried to compose myself (which didn't happen). Finally, I gave up on sucking in the tears and hoped she wouldn't notice. She was visibly upset and so I started telling her about the people who are praying for her, grandparents that are going to visit, and then I said, "Maybe the guys (that's what she calls the three big sibs) can come and see you today. Do you want them to come here?"

A glorious thing happened, she looked at me and gave me the 'Ethiopian nod'. I didn't think she was even listening to me. She's mad, confused, and hurting, but she's still sweet, strong, Sally.

Thank you for your prayers and wonderful comments (if you haven't left one for Sally go visit the "For Sally" post). You have all been a blessing to us; I'll continue to update as Sally makes progress.

2:30 Sally's been off the ventilator for several hours now. Then she was on O2 for a couple of hours but is off that now as well. She is breathing well, but is still quite uncomfortable. She's making tremendous progress; she's able to talk to us and let us know what she needs and how she's feeling. The rest of the kids and grandparents were able to come and visit with her for a couple of hours, take advantage of the local attractions (foos ball, air hockey, library...) and enjoy a delicious trip to the cafeteria.

We should be in ICU for a few days until her chest tube is removed. We (and the staff) are amazed at her progress--truly answered prayers. Thank God for her quick recovery this far. Please continue to pray for her as she is in pain and being weaned from the 'strong stuff' that has kept her sleeping until now.

Surgery Day

7:30 Sally and Apryl go back to the operating room. Sally gets freaked out in the OR because of all the commotion. She calms down a little and soon passes out.

8:45 Nurse called to say that surgery has begun. It took a while for anesthesia to put in various IVs and get her prepared.

9:30 Our favorite ortho nurse stopped by to let us know that Sally's rib is out and they now have access to her back. She said that she is doing well and they will let us know as progress is made with cleaning out the abscess.

11:20 Doctor just updated us. He's done with the first part of surgery! This is an answer to prayer!! He said the infection was contained and easy to clean out. Once they opened her up, her tissue was healthy and free of infection. They cleaned the infectious mass out and then removed the vertebrae that were affected. The rib that they removed was long enough for him to cut in half and use both pieces for support. He left one piece connected to the blood supply (it will grow) and anchored both pieces to the healthy vertebrae on top and bottom. Her nerve function is great, and the general surgeon is closing her up right now. He will begin the rod implants shortly and expects that to last for three hours.

12:45 The Doctor called the waiting area and said they have started the second half of the surgery (ie. rod implants). We thought we were already on our way with this, but it took a little longer to get her closed up. Now begins the last three hours of waiting.

3:15 Another update...the surgery is still underway and is still going well!

4:00 Rod implant surgery is over! They are closing her up. The doctor will be out with a report soon.

5:30 Doctor is here--Sally is on her way to ICU. She is doing absolutely wonderful!! Praise God, she's got FULL nerve function, and never even had any blips on the monitor. She lost only 400cc of blood and didn't need a transfusion (he said that is well below average blood loss during the surgery, we were expecting transfusions). The rods are placed, he added bone growth 'helper' to her vertebral column (the 'gutters' along the rods). Her ribs stayed perfectly in place during the flip to her back and we are waiting for x-rays to make sure everything is placed perfectly (chest tubes, etc). He didn't replace her cast, but put her into a splint-like shell to keep her stabilized, for fear that she may startle awake at some point and injure herself. The splint will allow her chest to be monitored more safely. On so many levels the surgery went perfectly--even better than perfect. God has answered our prayers today!

She still has a long road ahead. She will be ventilator for a few days, and still needs to wake up and wiggle her toes (hopefully sometime in the night otherwise they'll do it in the morning). Please THANK GOD for his care today and continue to pray for her as she recovers!

For Sally

I know that we are covered in prayer. I am blessed beyond understanding by the sheer volume of people praying for Salomae. Many of you will be checking on her today by reading our blog. When Sally is a little older, I would like to be able to tell her about all of you who have been prayer warriors for her. When you stop by today, would you do me the favor of leaving Sally a comment? I've made it simple, so all of you lurkers can come out of hiding--no blogger id needed, just click on 'comment' and follow the directions.

Thank you so much!

We've been crying in the waiting area as I'm reading your comments...

Our Last Appointment

Josiah wakes up really early most mornings. Today was no exception. He and I cuddled in the dark living room on the sofa as he finished his bottle. His eyes closed and we both started to drift off. I was trying to forget about laundry, lesson plans, and posting about surgery. Just enjoying the few moments I could with a baby that is usually too busy to cuddle. I settled in and thought he was asleep when he ripped the bottle out of his mouth and burped in my face. Such is motherhood, I suppose.

Instead of cuddling, here I sit trying to remember everything that we talked about last night. The important stuff? Since the doctor hasn't done this exact, specific surgery before, he doesn't know how long it will take. **side note--that sounds horrible, he hasn't cleaned TB off of a kid's spine, but he's done a strut graft and fusion before, so don't freak out** The complicated part is cleaning out the infected bone and abscess. The general surgeon is going to do that (he's got experience cleaning TB out of organs). After that, he'll take a rib and anchor it into healthy vertebrae on the top and bottom. Then he will flip her over and put anchors and rods along the weak area of her back. He said it could take from 2 to 10 hours to get the first part done. He feels very confident about the surgery and about the final results.

I can't possibly recall what we talked about for an hour, but I left feeling much better than when I arrived. I was at the 'vomiting point' on our way up. Obviously, it doesn't take much to feel better than that.

Here's the last picture of Sally's 'bump' before surgery...

Sweetness

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.