Friday, January 31, 2014
Winter Wonderland?
It doesn't snow in the south. Not here. So, when the lightest dusting powdered the flower beds earlier this week, school was cancelled, the base closed, locals bought out the grocery stores, and kids had a field day making tennis-ball-sized snowmen. Our boys' joy was not the least affected by the lack of amount on the ground. We alternated between playing outside in the snow and warming up inside by the fire. Brent kept that fire burning from breakfast until bedtime. Everlee didn't love the cold. She lasted for about half an hour before looking miserable. It was a peaceful, wonder-filled couple of days.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Sedation
A month ago, Beck had a second extended MRI scan to follow up a questionable one in August. Actually, it was a third time. The follow up in early November was a nightmare. They incorrectly scheduled it in the adult side of the hospital and expected him to lay still for an hour and a half without any medication. Most adults can't even do that. They also attempted to administer his IV without a numbing patch or nitrous. Three women and one man literally held his failing body down to stick him, and as he shouted out "Stop them, Mommy! Make them STOP," I quickly took to Mama defense and decided to step in... To stop the chaos of an already frightened boy. To end that painful moment and make it right. To reschedule at Children's with all the painless tricks of the trade. The kid has been through enough already.
Fast forward to December 3rd. It was a Tuesday. I asked two separate friends to help with the littles as not to lose a friendship or make anyone homicidal. That was at the height of the Penn-Everlee showdown. I had snacks and extra clothes (for Everlee, not Penn) packed the night before and actually left my house a few minutes early for the drop offs. (True story. Early never happens.) I even shoved two twenties in my back pocket to hand to each friend for lunch or whatever. I felt on my game, prepared to focus on Beck. That was all about to crumble.
Heading into the first friend's neighborhood, Penn declares his belly hurts. Mind you, my kids are never sick. Not the normal everyday kind of sick, at least. Broken arm, palate surgery, hydrocephalus, yes. But fevers and colds, no. I brushed it off telling him he probably needed to go to the bathroom. Ten seconds later, he puked all over the car. A lot. I wanted to cry. I wasn't too far from home but far enough to turn around and wash him up, change him, clean out the car and still make it to drop off number 2 and then the scan on time. I rushed to Kimberly's house and rang the doorbell. She immediately jumped in when I explained what was already written on my verge-of-meltdown face. We stripped him down to his undies on her front lawn and she whisked my saturated kid to her downstairs bathroom. While I tried to salvage his car seat, she bathed him at light speed and dressed him in her own son's clothes. I decided he'd have to come with me, because I didn't want him to get her boys sick. Before we rushed off, she gave us a plastic witch's cauldron from Halloween for him to hold, should he get sick again. It is a thirty minute drive downtown. Oh, and I left his mess of clothes right where they were. I was not about to leave that smell in an enclosed car while we were inside the hospital for several hours.
We drove with the residual stench and me frantically making phone calls to Brent and my next helpful friend. When we got to Molly's house, I traded E for a second set of clothes close to Penn's size since he had gotten sick a second time. With the cauldron, it was not enough of a mess to change him, but I wanted a back up for the rest of the day. Goodness, my friends are true friends.
We rushed to Children's and spent what felt like twenty minutes driving through the tight parking garage looking for an open spot. Once parked, we put the cauldron on the ground next to the driver's side back tire, grabbed an empty grocery bag Molly provided, and hustled to check in. We'd still made it on time. Barely. Thank goodness, because this scan was extremely important to me, and we'd waited an extra month for results due to the prior scheduling mix up.
I signed in. They called our number to approach the official check in desk. A very upbeat lady asked for my ID and insurance. I dug and dug through my purse. Nothing. My wallet wasn't there. Instantly, I knew where it was. I had done my Christmas shopping online, in bed, the night before. It was cyber-Monday. I'd left my wallet on my bedside table. Rather than freak out, I killed with kindness and desperation. I didn't make up a story, I told her the truth. I'd been shopping in bed, we chatted about the deals. I told her I'd left early, that this little mohawked boy with me had puked on the way down, that my stoic son needed this MRI. I spoke very calmly and candidly, mother to mother, woman to woman. She winked at me, "Your husband is military right?" I didn't need the wink. He is military. "Because we can look your insurance up with his social, honey." And to confirm my identity she took Beck aside for a moment and asked him my name, if I was his mom, and what our address was. It all checked out and we were checked in.
With that done, I sat down and took a deep breath. Then I thought, how in the hell am I going to get out of the parking garage? I figured if I had to, I'd have Brent or a friend come bail me out. It took me until mid procedure to feel the unused twenty in my back pocket that didn't get handed to Kimberly since I took Penn with me. Hallelujah. There was even enough for cafeteria lunch.
Beck was under general anesthesia for the 90 minute scan. This experience was far superior for Beck and me. A group of friendly doctors and nurses walked us all back to a colorful room, showed us the machine, talked in kid terms about what would happen (even though we've done a few of these before ;-) and told him there was a long standing competition of who could count the highest. No one had ever passed 10. Beck smiled with confidence and assured them he could beat that! He breathed in the sleepy gas and by 3 laughed and said the ceiling was blurry. By 5, he was out. They even waited to put his IV in after he was under. Having staff both trained and equipped to work with young, scared kids makes a huge difference.
In recovery, we waited to for him to wake up on his own. Penn was very curious and concerned. He kept rubbing Beck's head and holding his hand. It was a series of sweet moments that made this mama tear up. It is hard to watch your child go through procedures, even routine ones.
Fast forward to December 3rd. It was a Tuesday. I asked two separate friends to help with the littles as not to lose a friendship or make anyone homicidal. That was at the height of the Penn-Everlee showdown. I had snacks and extra clothes (for Everlee, not Penn) packed the night before and actually left my house a few minutes early for the drop offs. (True story. Early never happens.) I even shoved two twenties in my back pocket to hand to each friend for lunch or whatever. I felt on my game, prepared to focus on Beck. That was all about to crumble.
Heading into the first friend's neighborhood, Penn declares his belly hurts. Mind you, my kids are never sick. Not the normal everyday kind of sick, at least. Broken arm, palate surgery, hydrocephalus, yes. But fevers and colds, no. I brushed it off telling him he probably needed to go to the bathroom. Ten seconds later, he puked all over the car. A lot. I wanted to cry. I wasn't too far from home but far enough to turn around and wash him up, change him, clean out the car and still make it to drop off number 2 and then the scan on time. I rushed to Kimberly's house and rang the doorbell. She immediately jumped in when I explained what was already written on my verge-of-meltdown face. We stripped him down to his undies on her front lawn and she whisked my saturated kid to her downstairs bathroom. While I tried to salvage his car seat, she bathed him at light speed and dressed him in her own son's clothes. I decided he'd have to come with me, because I didn't want him to get her boys sick. Before we rushed off, she gave us a plastic witch's cauldron from Halloween for him to hold, should he get sick again. It is a thirty minute drive downtown. Oh, and I left his mess of clothes right where they were. I was not about to leave that smell in an enclosed car while we were inside the hospital for several hours.
We drove with the residual stench and me frantically making phone calls to Brent and my next helpful friend. When we got to Molly's house, I traded E for a second set of clothes close to Penn's size since he had gotten sick a second time. With the cauldron, it was not enough of a mess to change him, but I wanted a back up for the rest of the day. Goodness, my friends are true friends.
We rushed to Children's and spent what felt like twenty minutes driving through the tight parking garage looking for an open spot. Once parked, we put the cauldron on the ground next to the driver's side back tire, grabbed an empty grocery bag Molly provided, and hustled to check in. We'd still made it on time. Barely. Thank goodness, because this scan was extremely important to me, and we'd waited an extra month for results due to the prior scheduling mix up.
I signed in. They called our number to approach the official check in desk. A very upbeat lady asked for my ID and insurance. I dug and dug through my purse. Nothing. My wallet wasn't there. Instantly, I knew where it was. I had done my Christmas shopping online, in bed, the night before. It was cyber-Monday. I'd left my wallet on my bedside table. Rather than freak out, I killed with kindness and desperation. I didn't make up a story, I told her the truth. I'd been shopping in bed, we chatted about the deals. I told her I'd left early, that this little mohawked boy with me had puked on the way down, that my stoic son needed this MRI. I spoke very calmly and candidly, mother to mother, woman to woman. She winked at me, "Your husband is military right?" I didn't need the wink. He is military. "Because we can look your insurance up with his social, honey." And to confirm my identity she took Beck aside for a moment and asked him my name, if I was his mom, and what our address was. It all checked out and we were checked in.
With that done, I sat down and took a deep breath. Then I thought, how in the hell am I going to get out of the parking garage? I figured if I had to, I'd have Brent or a friend come bail me out. It took me until mid procedure to feel the unused twenty in my back pocket that didn't get handed to Kimberly since I took Penn with me. Hallelujah. There was even enough for cafeteria lunch.
Beck was under general anesthesia for the 90 minute scan. This experience was far superior for Beck and me. A group of friendly doctors and nurses walked us all back to a colorful room, showed us the machine, talked in kid terms about what would happen (even though we've done a few of these before ;-) and told him there was a long standing competition of who could count the highest. No one had ever passed 10. Beck smiled with confidence and assured them he could beat that! He breathed in the sleepy gas and by 3 laughed and said the ceiling was blurry. By 5, he was out. They even waited to put his IV in after he was under. Having staff both trained and equipped to work with young, scared kids makes a huge difference.
In recovery, we waited to for him to wake up on his own. Penn was very curious and concerned. He kept rubbing Beck's head and holding his hand. It was a series of sweet moments that made this mama tear up. It is hard to watch your child go through procedures, even routine ones.
So, he didn't win the counting competition, but we left a lasting impression. As Beck was coming to, the medical staff realized Penn had been tightly holding onto an empty plastic bag for hours. And the story of our morning, our comedy of errors, was thoroughly retold by a drugged up patient and his interjecting younger brother.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Pony Tail
Everlee has been with us for five months! Her hair has grown! It is long enough now to put in the cutest of pony tails. Styling it is *super fun* since it is so fine and shiny. (Plus, she's bucking you like a bull.) Oh, but it's worth the effort. The band must be elastic not to slide, you have to pull hard, secure the hair band six times or so, but overall, it looks good most of the day. Our life right now is much like her new hairstyle: Pulled tightly into place with only a few wispy strands falling out.
Since mid-Novemeber, my last post, ours days have been filled. Our best friends came with their five children for Thanksgiving (AWESOME) and from then on, it was a sprint to the finish in December. The day after they left was Penn's 4th birthday and his party. The following day, or as Goochy would say, "tomorrow-tomorrow," was Beck's all important, morning-long, sedated MRI. That day deserves it's own entry. The day after that, Penn and I flew to San Francisco just the two of us... cue Will Smith... in hopes that one-on-one time with Mommy would dig him out of his dark place. (Paired with the purpose of visiting my sister, of course.)
Then... two days stranded in Chicago O'Hare which meant touching snow and sleeping on the ground at the USO, Terrific Kid, school parties, Christmas performances, a surprise (to Mom and Dad too) home visit from Santa one night, welcoming another adoptive family home, shrinky dinks, ornament crafting, Cheryl's surprise 60th in Florida, Waldman Christmas, Christmas Eve church service and our annual caroling with the neighbors on the back of a flatbed, real Christmas, Legos mania, Everlee's 3rd birthday, Brent going back to work, mini van shopping, removal of the dying Christmas tree, aquarium with friends, welcoming the New Year, the start of piano lessons for Beck, speech therapy for E, and the overlapping seasons of flag football and basketball. Other than travel, we tend to lead a slow daily life of school and play, but the month of December and into January is certainly an exception.
Thankfully, the holiday break was also a break from the littles' bickering. It was a lovely change of dynamics in our home. With Penn distracted by both Dad and brother home, harmony came upon us. Harmony people. Harmony. I loved every second of it. We meshed, laughed, and made happy memories, distant from the ones of an overwhelmed mom harping on them two weeks prior. This wack-a-doodle family of five pulled itself into a decent looking pony tail. The tangled, unmanageable ringlets have straightened with the season and are currently under control. Let's hope the elastic holds.
Since mid-Novemeber, my last post, ours days have been filled. Our best friends came with their five children for Thanksgiving (AWESOME) and from then on, it was a sprint to the finish in December. The day after they left was Penn's 4th birthday and his party. The following day, or as Goochy would say, "tomorrow-tomorrow," was Beck's all important, morning-long, sedated MRI. That day deserves it's own entry. The day after that, Penn and I flew to San Francisco just the two of us... cue Will Smith... in hopes that one-on-one time with Mommy would dig him out of his dark place. (Paired with the purpose of visiting my sister, of course.)
Then... two days stranded in Chicago O'Hare which meant touching snow and sleeping on the ground at the USO, Terrific Kid, school parties, Christmas performances, a surprise (to Mom and Dad too) home visit from Santa one night, welcoming another adoptive family home, shrinky dinks, ornament crafting, Cheryl's surprise 60th in Florida, Waldman Christmas, Christmas Eve church service and our annual caroling with the neighbors on the back of a flatbed, real Christmas, Legos mania, Everlee's 3rd birthday, Brent going back to work, mini van shopping, removal of the dying Christmas tree, aquarium with friends, welcoming the New Year, the start of piano lessons for Beck, speech therapy for E, and the overlapping seasons of flag football and basketball. Other than travel, we tend to lead a slow daily life of school and play, but the month of December and into January is certainly an exception.
A perfect example of their personalities: Penn in costume, Everlee mad that she's trapped, and a focused Beck checking off the grocery list.
After saying "No" to a second candy cane.
Thankfully, the holiday break was also a break from the littles' bickering. It was a lovely change of dynamics in our home. With Penn distracted by both Dad and brother home, harmony came upon us. Harmony people. Harmony. I loved every second of it. We meshed, laughed, and made happy memories, distant from the ones of an overwhelmed mom harping on them two weeks prior. This wack-a-doodle family of five pulled itself into a decent looking pony tail. The tangled, unmanageable ringlets have straightened with the season and are currently under control. Let's hope the elastic holds.
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