A Very Merry Christmas

We hope your day was exciting, fun, and full of love.

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First Tooth

In first grade, Ms. Knowles had a tooth tree for kids that lost any teeth that year. I lost my first tooth in second grade. By that time, it was no longer a novelty.

Larissa is a young kindergarten and is a Young descendant. I warned her that her friends would lose their teeth, but she would have to wait.

But she was motivated.

I should have picked up on the new found interest in apples and carrots, but I didn't.

While doing her daily wiggle check, she felt one move. Maybe if I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could tell it moved. But it wasn't ready.

So I gave her the news.

Tears in her eyes; she wanted it out.

"Call Grandpa. He can do it."

"Larissa, it's not ready. It will hurt."

We called Grandpa, set up an appointment, and I warned him it wasn't ready.

He made no attempts without her permission.

I was barely aware of what was happening. No tears, no distress.

Then they handed me the tooth... that never wiggled. Two months after her older brother lost his first tooth.

When you are determined and have the right people in your corner, you can do anything.

Fathers and Daughers

This was the first year that Grant was able to take the girls to Fathers and Daughters' campout since it falls during football season.  It was a huge sacrifice as a football coach, but a huge accomplishment as a father.  Raea and Larissa were begging to go... and as fast as time goes, that may not always be the case.

(Just found this picture, now I finally know what the fort looks like that the girls kept describing.)

How did I get here? Part I

I was NOT one of those girls who couldn't wait to get married and have babies. In fact, I was the complete opposite. I couldn't allow any interference in my attempt to take over the world.

Until.

I met him.

I wasn't excited when he proposed. I knew what it meant. However, after I accepted the deal... I mean really accepted the deal, I was baby hungry.

And he made me wait.

I was 22 and a recent college grad. I was a successful project manager in an indoor air quality laboratory when the big "black mold" and anthrax scare happened. I was getting weekly gifts from clients. I knew I was on my way to take over the world when I got a company cell phone. My first cell phone.

Then Grant gave me the news.

After a long six months of waiting (and marriage), he said we could start trying. Two weeks later, I was pregnant. Maybe it was the hormones, but it didn't take me long to realize that my high profile job would not be compatible with a newborn.

And thus it began.

The long debate between financial security, professional respect, and being a "good mom".

So... I went back to the drawing board.

An extraordinary day

Growing up I loved doing my little sister's hair. I loved to sit back and look at the magic I just created. Having two girls I thought I would have lots of opportunities to view my work. Unfortunately, both of my girls are so independent, they won't let me touch their hair.

Last night was like any other night. Larissa visited me on her way back to the bathroom. We hugged and cuddled and kissed until she walked back to her room about 2 hours later. It was an ordinary night... after an extraordinary day.

Yesterday, Larissa and I joyfully cleaned out her closets. We hugged and giggled as we discovered how much she had grown. I whispered to her that she was my favorite. (I tell everyone they are my favorite when we have alone time.) And she told me I was her best friend. Even though those words are used frequently in my house, it was different this time. Right then, no one else in the world could compete with us.

So, imagine my frustration when 10 minutes after I turn on her bedroom light to indicate it was time to start waking up when I hear crying. UGHH!! Another ordinary day. Tears.

I walked into her room, and through her tears she said, "I don't want to go to school." I was dumbfounded. I said nothing.

"And I don't want to go to gymnastics." She has never indicated that she didn't like gymnastics. On the contrary. She loves it.

I was silent.

"I am going to miss you soooo much."

Touched, I sat down with her, went through our calendar, and picked a day for our next date. It was perfect we have Veteran's day off together this week. I think she felt better, so I started to get up to leave.

And then the tears really came. OH MY GOODNESS. Crying kills a part of my soul. She was trying to speak, but I couldn't understand through the wails.

"Calm down, sweetheart." It was not as genuine as it could have been.

"Mom... you. can. do. my. hair. today."

It was her ultimate gift to me. It was a gift of herself.

I think her exterior is so hard to protect the delicate pieces inside.

If you don't know her, you are missing out.

Just One Day

I was surprised with tickets to Time Out for Women. I was so blessed that Grant and Bridgette were able to find a ticket, Grandma Marci was able to babysit, and Grandma Rae could take Raea to her soccer game. Multiple blessings took place for me to be there, and it was just what I needed.

When I was a teenager, I would enjoy going to EFY every summer. I loved the way it made me feel; I loved the new focus. My little sister and I referred to it as "the EFY high." TOFW is like EFY for mommies. And today was just one day... on the high.

One experienced mother so eloquently said, "I didn't plan to be a witch." It is easy to lose focus when you are putting your kid to bed for the third time, dealing with fighting children, or re-pouring the milk because they "want it big". Why is motherhood so demanding and unromantic at times?

Today was just one day, but it was different. I was able to stop an allergy meltdown that is usually unstoppable with cold compresses, hugging, and talking. Who knew a five year old would be so interested in talking about her grandpa in the military?

At one point, I heard the frustration in my husband's voice as he reminded another child to stop screaming for the fourth time. It wasn't working; the child was oblivious to the torture he was inflicting on the others. I then asked the child to show me one of his new library books. I didn't have to discipline. I had no clue that every member of the family would climb onto the couch waiting for this child to present his story. One child even asked to say the prayer since we had all gathered together. How did this happen?

I even reached the youngest, who has entered such a terrible stage in the life cycle, which unfortunately I have seen before, and I know it doesn't last forever. I changed my thoughts. I changed his name. Somehow he like being called "Helping Herston" running down stairs to get his sister's blanket or running to turn off the lights.

One of my favorite quotes was from a story about a man bragging about his wonderful children, to which a friend told him, "God must not trust you sending you easy children." Parenting hasn't been easy, but I have always tried with all my heart. The quote brought a smile to my face and confidence to my soul. God has trusted me with some powerful angels.

The tank must be continually replenished, but for today, it is filled. Today, I made the perfect decisions for my children. Today, I know the Lord loves me, and He will not leave me comfortless.

Suffering can make saints out of people.

More Halloween Picture

I love that all my kids are so different looking. At gymnastics, the teacher asked Raea, "do you have the same mom or dad as your sister?"

School Parade

It is a awesome neighborhood tradition to watch the school kids parade around the school to show off their costumes. I couldn't miss it!

It was Larissa's first time joining the parade! And Ethan never left character.

It was worth all the anxiety about getting to work late.

And by the way, when did I get a kid too old for the parade? It's all a blur. This was Raea's first year not in the parade.

A long, torturous night

It was midnight, and I had been sleeping for only three hours. I am always more groggy after getting tempted with just a little bit of sleep. I heard a blood curdling noise coming closer to my bedroom door, and then a collapse on my hope chest located at the end of my bed. I knew it was one of the kids, “come here, baby. What is going on?!?”

“My head! My head!”

He has never complained of a headache before. In fact, THIS IS THE WORST HEADACHE OF HIS LIFE. Oh, no. It’s a subarachnoid hemorrhage.

“Come here.” I am too tired to move to pick him up.

“I can’t move.”

He can’t move? Is he paralyzed? Is this a stroke? AVM? SAH? I pull him on top of me to find he is moving all extremities and thrashing about.

“Calm down. What is going on?”

“I just woke up with a headache.” The cries have not stopped, and at times they get louder than ever.

Mass effect from a tumor? Laying flat with a tumor increased his intracranial pressure too high? I decide I have to assess him. “Honey, turn on the light.”

“Ou, ou, ouch! The light!”

Photophobia-- must be SAH or meningitis. Wait, the lights have been off for a while. In fact, the light is even bothering my eyes. “Sweetheart, just turn on the closet light.”

Desperate to differentiate meningitis, I lift his head to check for nuchal rigidity. “OUCH!”

That’s it; his neck is tender. “You scratched me.” Oops, I have been meaning to cut my nails for a while.

I check for Brudzinski’s sign. My heart drops. His knees are flexed up; it is positive. We need to go to the ER now. Should I drive or call the ambulance? I decide to elicit it again. Oh, he was never lying supine in the first place. He doesn’t have Brudzinski’s sign. He is just mad I am messing with his head. More screams.

“Honey, go get some pain medicine.” I contemplate appropriate drug dosages and all the drugs available to me in the hospital. I think I have left over liquid codeine from another kid’s recent surgery. My husband comes back with an infant dropper of acetaminophen.

“Seriously!?!?”

“It’s all we got.” Reading the package carefully. “We will have to give him 12 syringes for his weight, but we only have one or two.”

The worst torture in a parent’s life is to watch your child suffer. Surely the tears are a sign of something that I am not seeing. “Just give him something!”

Worried, my sweet child looks up at me and says, “What is happening to me?”

It’s the feeling of impending doom! I have seen it before. Whenever you have a patient tell you they think they are going to die, get the code cart. They are going to try. I am not ready. This is my baby!

“Is anything numb?” Still assessing for bleeding associated with an aneurysm or arteriovenous malformation, I realize he may not know what numb means. “Does anything feel funny?”

“Yes.”

That’s it. It is serious. “Where, baby?”

“My head. Right in the front. Like I said.”

Oh, so no paresthesia. He is intact. Running through the differentials I am worried. His wails scare me. I am paralyzed.

“Hey, do you want a drink of water?” my husband so bravely asks him.

“OK.” He sits up. Drinks, and for a brief moment, he is silent. Finally. He puts the drink down. He wiggles his body on top of mine and finds a comfortable spot. He is resting.

Then I realize. I guess kids just get headaches. He is quiet. He has settled. I resolved to call the pediatrician. In the morning. After I finish my sleep.

NOTE: This is the same child that limped for a month because he thought he broke his ankle until finally the pediatrician pulled me to the side and said, “He is fine. Put him down. He is using you as a high commodity wheelchair.”

My husband and I decided if it was one of our girls crying like that, we would have taken them to the hospital right away.

DISCLAIMER: I have been educated two additional years after my Master’s degree to assess, diagnose, and treat life threatening situations. It is my job to rule out the emergencies first. Unfortunately, I see them in my children first, too.