Breathing Again

I've never been so glad to have to tell Evan to slow down as I am this morning. See this sweet boy with the crazy hair:

You would never guess he almost ended up in the pediatric ER yesterday afternoon. I am going to start a running tab on hair color that this boy causes me to buy.

I've been writing all week that Evan has a nasty cold. Yesterday morning, he asked to take a nap, which is really unlike him. When he woke up three hours later, the low-grade fever was back and his breathing was rapid. He wasn't having trouble breathing, but it was fast and I got nervous. I called the doctor, certain she would say, "It's a cold," but she asked me to bring him in so she could check him out.

When I got to the office, our nurse met me at the door and said I didn't need to worry about checking in. Odd. We got to the exam room, and our doctor was waiting with a pulse ox monitor. Panic started to set in. I was prepared for her usual warm smile reminding me kids get colds and my boy was fine. I was not prepared for all of this.

They hooked Evan up, and she started listening to his lungs. The room was so quiet. And this is why I love my doctor, she held my hand and looked me square in the eyes and said, "You are going to over-react when I say this, and that's okay. I think Evan has RSV and if it gets any worse I'm sending you to the pediatric ER." And then she sat quietly and let me cry for a second.

She spent the next hour in that room with us, watching Evan and occasionally listening to his lungs. Telling me in little bits everything I needed to know--little bits my mommy brain could handle. How many doctors do that anymore? We were her last appointment, and she stayed late to be sure he was okay. They did a swab to get an official diagnosis, and she assured me she thought he would be just fine and to keep him on Motrin. You see, for anything but RSV you are supposed to leave a low-grade fever alone--let it do its job. That is exactly what I had been doing. With RSV, the fever complicates the breathing. While we were there, the Motrin kicked in and you could see him start to improve. We were sent home with strict orders to stay on the Motrin, watch him like a hawk, and call her at home if he took a turn and she would meet us in ER.

I left and called my mom, because that's what you really need when your baby is sick--your mom. Within moments, she had offered to fly down, which seemed a bit unnecessary, but then she was on the CDC website reading me exactly what I needed to know. The odds. The symptoms. The worst cases and the best cases. It's how Mom and I roll with medical issues. Screw one step at a time; we need the whole picture. She let me wallow in my mommy guilt for not giving medicine just long enough to verbalize it and then realize 99% of the time it would have been the right call. She validated that he was going to be fine...and so was I. And I will be forever grateful that she always picks up the phone.

This morning, the doctor herself called to tell me it was definitely RSV and to check on him. She also said we should be through the worst. I love this woman. Her daughter is just about Issa's age, and she has seen us through two pregnancies and every ailment of childhood. She is reassuring and honest and the kids love her. She knows medicine is about more than diagnosis and treatment; it's about healing the whole child and the whole family. She knows that mommies need to cry sometimes, and when we over-react she is reassuring rather than condescending. She is never allowed to move--ever. I might follow her.

Evan is happily building blocks; it's the first time he has not been attached to my hip since Sunday. Again, I am so grateful I don't have to deal with any major illnesses in my kids, and my heart goes out to those that do.

Cabin Fever

Bless you. The boy and I are still home. We've been fever free for 12 hours, but he's still a little pitiful and we decided a little extra rest wouldn't be a bad thing.

What is the best thing to combat cabin fever?

Silly Putty! This is Evan's first experience, and he is in love:

Such fun strings! I had forgotten how easily it cleans up, so I am one happy mommy. I'm also a mommy that must leave this house!

The Pitiful and the Fabulous

Look at this pitiful face:
Evan and I had some quality time yesterday. He has a nasty cough, runny nose, and a low-grade fever. Yep...I said has. He's still home. But...he's a little less punky today. We spent lots of time snuggling, watching animal shows, and reading. He did sneak upstairs to play a little Play-do:

On the whole, though, he was pitiful. He was so pitiful he didn't even care when Issa and I got ready to go to a Christmas party for my old lab group. Check out Miss Fabulous:

One of her little friends at the party announced she was "blindingly sparkly." Issa was thrilled by that proclamation.

It was so good to see everyone, but also a bit unsettling. It's funny how when you move on you pretend everything stays the same. It was strange to see new people in the group and new babies and babies growing into big kids. I suppose time will do that.

The party was good fun, though, especially for the kids! The host always sets up a playroom for them, complete with a craft project. This year, the kids decorated tabletop Christmas trees. At the end of the evening, each child also receives a gift. There is always something common to all of the kids and then something unique to the child. This year, the commonality was an animal hat:

Does life get more fabulous? Issa had to wear it to school today even thought it was 50 degrees.

Well...Mr. Pitiful is done being independent. I think I see The Night Before Christmas in our future.

Trimmed in Memories

We are on the mend! Issa and I are fully recovered, and Evan is on the way. I do have a little helper home with me, but he's currently doing his best sharp tooth impression while watching The Land Before Time. We are on the upswing.

Even though we were a little punk yesterday, we wanted a little holly jolly in our day. So...we decided to trim the tree. It's a nice quiet project.

For the first time, Issa did her very own string of popcorn and cranberries:
I gave her an upholstery needle, which made life much easier--she always had some needle to hold onto no matter how big the cranberry was.

Daddy got to tackle the lights:

You can tell how much he loves tackling the lights. I like my Christmas along the magnitude of 12 million; I think he would be okay with a magnitude of ten. He does it for me, and I love him for that.

Then...the magic...the ornaments:

Our tree is a memory tree. Every ornament has a story or special event: a trip to the museum, a craft made at school, a gift, a favorite hobby for the year. Telling the stories is as much fun as hanging them on the tree. Issa pulled out box after box, telling the story--mostly the right stories. I laugh at the band of ornaments right at her eye level. (We would have taken pictures, but it was all hands on deck to make sure the ornaments made it on the tree in one piece. It was all just too exciting.) I could rearrange the ornaments to make it a bit more even, but this picture will be one more memory for the tree.

A Holly Jolly Day

Yesterday was an incredibly holly jolly day! It started with the town Christmas parade. Issa and I rode on the ballet studio's float with some friends:
And Evan and Daddy watched and waived:

It was a gorgeous day for a parade, and we had a blast.

After the parade, we decked the outside of our halls! We finally invested in artificial greenery for the front porch. It is prelit, and it went up so much more easily:

Can you tell how thrilled Brad was to be photographed?

Do you see something odd in this picture:

That would be a roll of duct tape. It's not really decorated until some wires have been taped down.

With the porch finished, we moved on to our little herd of deer. We have a love hate relationship with our herd: I love them and Brad hates them:

We have one for each of us, and I just love them. Brad finds them obnoxious to set up.

Evan was Daddy's little helper in the process, though:

We decided a scrap of wood was a better target than a deer stake for the little man.

Do you see something odd here?

Yep...the kids switched bikes for a while:

I am desperate for snow right now, but it is so nice to decorate outside while it's warm and the kids can play without six million layers.

The finished product:

I love all of the white lights at night.

After dinner, we set off for the Santa Train! It's a tradition at our museum, and we were all so excited!

The first stop is always face painting:

Evan wasn't interested in the face paint this year, but the train was a huge hit:

I will be forever grateful to the volunteer that snapped this picture for us!

Usually, the train is rerouted to the North Pole for the event, but this year Santa was kind enough to fly in to a special landing pad at the museum. Issa asked Santa for a pair of earmuffs:

Evan asked Santa for a motorcycle:There is nothing more magical than seeing Santa through the eyes of your children. They were both so excited, and I won't soon forget the sparkle in Issa's eyes as we pulled away. We saw Rudolph's nose flying through the trees, and she was just beside herself. We had saved Santa's evening by sending him home.

The wonderful day was a fabulous antidote for a rough night. The kids and I all fought a stomach bug, and poor Brad had to take care of all three of us. We seem to be on the mend, so I think it's time to start trimming a tree!

God Save the Queen

I am incredibly blessed in that most of my work can be done from home. It's great to be able to do a little laundry or run to the kids' schools in the middle of the day. The only down side is I spend most of my days alone. Sometimes, that is fabulous; I relish the quiet. Some days, I find myself talking to myself. And although I probably shouldn't admit this, I have even found myself creating little inside jokes with myself. Lately, my favorite revolves around the laundry room:
Scary, huh? That's clean laundry that needs to be put away, Christmas gifts that need wrapping, and Christmas craft supplies that need crafting. It's a happy, scary place. The other day, I opened the door and involuntarily said, "God save the queen!" I have no idea why, but now I must say it every time I open the door. It amuses me.

Yesterday, I gave myself the day "off" to craft and catch up around the house after the typhoon of bodily fluids from the past two days. The laundry room looks a bit less scary, but not by much. After Christmas, I'm sure I will miss the mess, though.

Today is one of the holliest, jolliest days of all. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow!

Neither Holly Nor Jolly But Blessed

This post is not for the weak of stomach. I promised to keep things real and honest here, and this is as real and honest as it gets. I am also sure someday this will all be hilarious--just not yet.

Yesterday was a rough one. I mentioned Evan got sick twice Wednesday night/early morning, but I didn't mention that after the first incident at 3 he ended up in our bed with me. Brad moved to the couch, and I spent most of the rest of the night awake. He didn't sleep well, which meant I didn't sleep well. Bottom line: I was running on about four hours of sleep yesterday.

The good news is Evan didn't get sick any more, but he was incredibly needy and wouldn't eat. While I didn't mind the extra snuggles, I found myself mentally compiling the list of everything that was not getting finished. I also found myself laying out a virtual buffet of everything he thought he might eat. Peanut butter sandwich--sure. Popcorn--you bet. Apple--absolutely. All producing a consumption of maybe five bites. Sigh.

I also found myself doing a ton of laundry--sheets, blankets, pajamas, pillows, and pillow pets. (By the way, ignore the pillow pet website. You can totally machine wash and dry those things. It was a $15 gamble I was willing to take yesterday.) The grossness just would not end. Sigh.

Brad came home early to relieve me so I could go get Issa and take her to the dentist. She had her first set of x-rays, and that kid was a rock star! Her mouth is so tiny, but they really worked with her to get the images. They like to have them by age four, but it just wasn't possible until now. Oh the drama that began.

It seems poor Issa inherited my teeth, which means the very back ones tip in to their neighbors. Consequently, each of those teeth are rubbing and causing pre-cavities. Long story short, we got a referral to a pediatric dentist to have some mini-fillings placed in those spots. Pediatric dentists are able to use laughing gas to make the experience more pleasant, and I am all for that. The dentist told us we are brushing and flossing well; it was basically just the shape of the teeth causing the problem. Mommy guilt just crushed me, though. Maybe if I brushed just a little longer...checked her flossing a little more. I don't know. The hygienist was incredible, though, and answered my gazillion questions about what's next. (I swear nurses and hygienists are angels.)

The dentist didn't share all of this with Issa, though. That became my job. I tried to keep it positive and remind her that the dentist said she was doing well, but there was the inevitable questions and concerns.

We got home just in time to change into a leotard and head to ballet. On the way, she was complaining about the yucky taste in her mouth, and just as we pulled into the parking lot she popped--as in threw up all over the van. Sigh.

She immediately felt better, and I'm sure it was a combination of dentist taste, flouride in her tummy, and nerves, but we headed home. For a brief mom-of-the-year moment, I actually thought about trying ballet. My head knew better, but I was just done. A full day of rough news and sick kids, I needed ballet. It's become my hour for the week. I get to watch my girl dance and talk with my best friend. Its disappearance was the final blow. Sigh.

We came home and got everything cleaned up. I had made taco casserole in my one pocket of free, un-barnacled by a two year old time yesterday, and it went back in the refrigerator in exchange for plain pasta. Sigh.

We got the kids in bed, and I spent time researching pediatric dentists in our network. I also indulged in some comfort food that can only happen the week after a trip up North--Balreich's and french onion dip. You can take the girl out of the mid-west but you can't take the mid-west out of the girl. (For those not from the mid-west, Balreich's are chips we can only get there and they just scream home--not fabulous--but home.) (And thank you Aunt Carol for always sending a bag back with me because I seem to be patently incapable of getting myself to a grocery to buy them.)

This morning, in the usual morning chaos of getting everyone out the door, I read Issa a letter from her school. Her class is sponsoring a child from an angel tree, and each child was asked to earn a dollar to bring in for the project. I explained what the angel tree is, and she immediately announced we needed to count her pebbles. (She does chores for pebbles, and when she hits 50 pebbles she gets $5.) She had well over 50, so I broke out the five ones I keep for just this occasion. She put $1 in her save jar, $1 in the envelope for school, and I gave her the remaining $3 to divide between her save and spend jars. That little angel looked at me and asked, "Do you think Miss Jennifer would mind if I gave $2 to the angel tree?"

No, baby, I don't think she would mind. Blessed. We may have had a day of vomit, but some families are facing cancers and the unimaginable with their children. We may have some funky teeth stuff going on, but we have great insurance and I can take her to have it fixed comfortably. I may have yet more laundry to do, but that means I have clothes and sheets and pillows and pillow pets to care for. Blessed.

Melt My Heart

Last night was my last night of class, and look what my sweet family did for me:

I came home to streamers, ribbons, and balloons to celebrate the occassion. (I particularly loved the balloon hanging from our ceiling fan.)

Even the banister was decorated. We are all pretty excited that I don't have an evening class next semester. It's been a long six months of Wednesdays. It's one evening, but it throws off the rhythm of our lives and I am always afraid I miss something--a funny comment, a great story, a trip to the park. They are growing up way too fast to miss those moments.

Today, I am home with a questionably sick boy. What do you think?
He's dancing to the singing trio of Santa, Frosty, and Rudolph. But...he got sick at three last night and then again at 6:30. By the way, changing sheets at 3 am is one of the few mothering moments I could totally do without. We are fairly certain it's just allergies and mucus (because you really need to know all this but now that I've started I can't stop), but we thought a little snuggle time and quiet rest might not be a bad idea. After all, we have a busy weekend ahead!

A Bazaar with Some Bizarre Snowmen

After much planning, the Holiday Bazaar went off without a hitch last night at Issa's school! I have no idea how the sales side of the bazaar actually went, but I know we had a blast in the kids' room. Issa and I assembled a snowman dress-up kit, which was a huge hit:
The kids thought it was hysterical to put on hats, scarves, and paper carrot noses. (One of the other parents painted this backdrop with the school logo.) The giggles alone were worth the gathering. We ended up with some bizarre combinations of hats and scarves, but they had a blast. Some of them even decided it was more fun to pretend they were getting ready for a sleigh ride:

No nose or shirt required. (I promise I took pictures of all the kids for the yearbook, but I'm only posting Issa here. I doubt you all really want to see a million pictures of random children.)

The snowman beanbag toss was also fun!

I even made snowflake beanbags. So fun!

We also had snacks! One of the parents brought a concession stand popcorn popper, which is very fun, and I made holiday Chex mix. In case you are wondering, a triple batch was a bit much, but it was a huge hit. (A triple batch has two boxes of cereal and a Costco size bag of craisins.)

I am still exhausted from all the fun, but it was so worth it when on the way to school Issa told me she was glad I was her mom and thanked me for playing with her friends last night. I'll take it.

Our Tree!

Last night a little more holly jolly entered our home in the form of the world's most perfect tree.(And yes, I say that every year and then spend part of the evening describing how this year's tree is better than the last. In this case, it's not too fat so we can actually get to the plug to light the lights.)

We decided to get our tree at the fire department this year. It's a fundraiser for them, and my littles were thrilled to see fire trucks and get a tree at the same time. It was almost too much. The trees were beautiful and passed inspection:
It was a hard choice, but in the interest of full disclosure, I forgot to take a picture of the actual choosing and made my family reenact it, which is not something I normally do but I have a picture from every other year and this year could be no exception. (I am realizing I may have some kind of issues...these are new issues centered around holiday traditions in addition to my other more general issues.) One problem:

If you look closely in that picture you can see our tree is already on top of the van--oops.

Mr. Eddie spoiled the kids with a tour of every truck and new coloring books. Evan hardly said two words while we were there, but he talked all night about the trucks, the trees, and Mr. Eddie. In fact, Mr. Eddie was the best part of his day and leaving Mr. Eddie was the worst. So cute.

Daddy brought the tree in and put it in the stand:

That picture cracks me up! I can't decide if he's doing surgery or committing murder.

Ah...the view from the kitchen:

I can hardly wait for it to settle so we can decorate. Tonight we have the holiday bazaar, though, and I'm sure there will be great stories to be told.

Happy Thanksgiving!

This was one of those perfect holidays. It all started with a perfect trip up to Ohio. We finally figured how to travel:
Sleeping children are a plus, but taking the middle seats out of the van and putting the kids in the back is brilliant. They have more room for their "stuff," real cup holders, and they can actually play with each other. My husband is a genius. (There...I put it in writing.)

After a delightful drive, we started the celebrating at Grandma Pat and Grandpa Kevin's house, where there were cookies to be baked:

And a dog to be loved:

This poor puppy is probably still sleeping. The three of them were inseparable and in constant motion--so cute.

Then, we celebrated with Papa Don, Grandma Nancy, Uncle Brian, Aunt D., and all the cousins:

That is one happy family.

We eventually headed a little further north to Nana and Papa Rich's house. We had the big meal, but we also had a ton of fun. There were more cookies to bake:

My cousins, Becca and Tyler, joined that madness. I can't remember the last time I have laughed so hard. We left no cookie cutter un-used and no sprinkle un-sprinkled. We picked on each other and remembered years and years of memories. I love sharing those stories with my kiddos and seeing them laugh as hard as we do.

There is nothing better than your significantly younger cousin telling you, "I don't need your sass." Oh, my friend, you do. Anyone who mistakes a church cookie cutter for a Christmas tree has it coming...that is the stuff memories are made of.

This, however, is a boy that knows his cookies:

I love my sisters face in the background. It's blurry, but it is pure joy.

Of course, there were also art projects galore. Even Uncle Jeff made a Play-do beach:

Not too shabby. Amongst the hustle and bustle, there were also quiet moments for snuggling and just being together.

Siblings enjoying a fire:

Two generations of siblings enjoying each other:

Papa Rich and Evan taking a break from hammering for snuggles:

I even managed to find a little snuggle time with my angels:

What is it about a fireplace that entices people to snuggle a little closer, be a little more joyful?

The Cookie Crew:

Well...most of the cookie crew.

Three generations of bakers:

That's a keeper.

Lest you think it was all snuggles and bliss, there were moments like this:

"Not one more picture. If I can't see you, you can't take the picture." (That must have been what he was thinking. I'm sure of it.)

Quiet moments turned to whirling dance numbers while the Christmas music filled the room:

Because after all, it's almost December...that Christmas-y time of year. And new coats are needed:

And trees must be trimmed:

This is actually my sister's tree. Issa made the garland for her, and in true Aunt Shannon form, it really went on the tree.

Tonight, we went to find our tree, and that story will come tomorrow. For now, I think I'll enjoy the smell of pine, have one more giggle at the memories, and remember how truly thankful I am.