Like Totally Awful

Holey, Moley, Cannoli! (my boys think that this phrase is hysterical.  In fact, they laugh at everything I rhyme with moley)

We are sick-o-la.

All three of us.

Yoda, Yoda, lee---iiii----whooooo  (they like that one, too)

Robot Man Wins Again!

We received the results from Everett's latest EEG. 

No seizure activity.  And, his liver levels are looking good!

This means that the seizures are being controlled as best as we can and that we will not need to add any more medication to what he is taking.

It means that we will do another EEG in December, and if that goes well, another 3-4 day Video EEG in March with the goal to ween him off the meds.

The goal in all of this was to have Evy seizure free for one year to allow the 'gene' to go inactive or the pesky part of the brain causing this to heal (by controlling the seizures we allow the brain a chance to heal instead of seizing throughout the day).

I feel blessed.  The doctor and his office are a blessed pain to deal with each and every time.  At the same time, despite the irritations and the anxiety about what procedures will not be paid for by the insurance, I know that he is getting the appropriate care and the doctor has Evy's best interests at heart.  I know that since I am doing all that I can to care for Evy that my Heavenly Father will provide the resources, at some point, to take care of the medical bills. 

Robot Man is taking all of this in stride.  He takes his awful medicine twice a day without batting an eye.  He views each EEG as an adventure with a healthy dose of chocolate at the end, and he even is a champ at all the blood draws we have to take to check his liver.

I am blessed to be at home to provide for him.  I am blessed to be able to find activities that he needs now with the abilities needed to make sure that pre and post medication changes result in positive changes for him.  I am blessed with a husband who reroutes his schedule to help Evy at the appointments whenever Evy needs additional support.  And, I am blessed to have the constant care and inquiry of those who love Evy.  He is lucky to have such loving and staunch supporters!

Sweet Merritt

Merritt was up at 4:00 this morning with a crazy fever.  It was a really rough day for him.

No nap.

Wonky fever that I could barely keep below 104 for any length of time.

We went to the doctor at 5:15.

Ear infection.

Dad found something he would eat . . . Cheetos.

Merritt just wanted to be cuddled all day long.  As hot as he was, he just needed some TLC.

Poor guy.  Hope tomorrow is a much better day for him.

Last of the Glue

BTW, we finally got the last of the glue out of Everett's hair from the Video-EEG in March.

And, it was because we were able to cut it off during his haircut.

Robot Man Wins Again!

So, we had the follow-up to the EEG this morning.

Everett did an amazing job waiting patiently for the doctor and for his parents to get all their questions answered.  He is just an amazing boy!  At the end, he very proudly showed off his Spiderman books.

There was seizure activity detected (boo) but not severe enough to warrant additional medication (yay).

This is how the doctor goes through the decision process to make his recommendations:
Goal 1) Evy needs 100% control of his seizures to give his body a chance to heal and decrease the likelihood that his is a lifelong issue.

Goal 2) We need to keep Everett's body on the least damaging medication that will control his seizures.

So, with those two goals in mind, and the knowledge now that the seizure activity detected was LESS than what was seen on the super strong meds in the hospital, the doctor did not think that putting him on stronger medicine is warranted.

Great news!  It tells us a couple of things might be happening:
1)  That the medication is working, and, maybe . . .
2)  Evy may be outgrowing this challenge.

We keep him on his meds for another 3 months.  He'll go through another EEG, and then we'll regroup from there.

Very positive news for him!

He did have to go through a blood-draw . . . but he was SO brave and the technicians were extremely gentle with him.  No screaming, no crying!  Excellent way to start the week.

On the way home, we talked about the blood-draw.  I talked about how he was brave and he asked what that meant.  After a little while he said,"I was scared, but I KNEW I could do it!"

 . . . and then a few minutes later,"I think I need a chocolate shake as a treat after that hard work!"

That we can do!  Great job, Evy!

Robot Man Slams EEG

Evy was A.W.E.S.O.M.E. during his EEG.

He laid still, all wired up, for about an hour following directions from the technician . . . . "open your eyes" or "close your eyes" . . . . and his dad took him out for chocolate and Cheetos once it was complete.

We are so proud of him!

(Results in about a week.)

(Merritt's word for chocolate: oc.)

Today for Tomorrow . . . Robot Man, Again

Tomorrow is another EEG.  I had to tell Everett about it today to allow him time to ask questions. 

• The first question:  Will I get a shot?  (a blood draw)
• Will it be at the hospital?
• When will it happen?

We made a care package for him.  (Includes, by Evy's request, 2 Lightning McQueen bandaids in case they do a blood draw.)

He is slightly nervous.

We are praying that they do not detect any breakthrough seizure activity.  please, please, please, pleasepleaseplease.

After about 10 minutes of being repeatedly asked, constantly, when and all the activities between now and the EEG, we made a schedule (in pictures).  He picked out the music to listen to  . . . the treat . . . and asked that Dad surprise him with a treat after the visit to the doctor's office.  We are ready.

(we color in the circle once the activity is done . . . stuff like eating, baseball game, sleeping, and playing.  The last item is Robot Man at the EEG with his cape on.)

Merritt at lunchtime.  No, I don't know how he always gets chocolate on his neck.

Hide and Seek is the past-time of champions right now.

He is hiding in his brother's laundry basket.

His favorite?  Emptying out the toy boxes and hiding in them.

Grrr!

Today I picked up Everett's medicine from the pharmacy.  It will be the second month that he is on this new medication.  Although this medication is less harmful to his body, the side effects are just not nice.

I've been taking them in stride.  Doing what I can to help Everett, minimizing the invasiveness of some of the side effects.

When I picked up the medicine, the pharmacist asked how it was going . . . and it just hit me how 'not easy' it is going.  I briefly listed a couple of the problems.  He reminded me that behavior changes are most likely due to the medication . . . and I realized that this is not going to get easier.  I am not sure if it is good or not that I am incrementally recognizing the scope of all of this.  I just try to take it one piece at a time and ignore what I can't control.

Evy can be paranoid, bordering on obsession with the items he is paranoid about.  He has a finger tick/flick thing going on . . . he is crankier and the medication causes nausea, he experiences acid reflux on it--sometimes with vomiting, and he gets rather violent hiccups every day.  (which he hates and then becomes paranoid that the hiccups will hurt his body, and he doesn't understand why things are so different for him)  And, his run is much more "clumsy" looking; he just is not as coordinated on this.

There is nothing that can quickly be done about these things.  You tell the doctor.  Wait to see what he says.  Manage the symptoms so that they invade our lives as little as possible.  Teach Everett about what is going on with his body.

I do think that the medication is controlling his seizures for the most part . . . there are still those times when he falls and I can't see why that I wonder if it was seizure related.

I am grateful that the pharmacist took the time to ask questions and help problemsolve.  I am grateful for a husband to that is open to problemsolving in the middle of the day when I have to make a decision.  I am grateful that the level of fatigue has decreased a bit for him.  He still prefers to lay down on the couch rather than run around, but I'll take whatever progress happens.

We are doing as well as we can.  I sure am grateful for our Everett. 

Recently, he has taken to pretending that his "baby chicks are hatching."  He'll make fists out of his hands and open them slowly, making soft cracking sounds as if the eggshells were cracking in his hands.  "See the baby chicks!"

State of the Neurons: Update on Robot Man Post EEG

This is Evy sleeping.  He does that a. l. o. t. now.

Just over a week ago, we had the follow-up appointment with Everett's neurologist.  I pretty much thought it would be a routine thing.  I would get to complain about how lethargic Evy is on the medication, he would give his recommendation, and then we would go our merry way and see him again in another 3 months.  Nope.

We came to find out with the EEG that he was having breakthrough seizure activity on the old medicine ... though overall frequency has lowered. 

Because he was still having break through seizure activity on the super strong old medicine (as shown on the EEG), the neurologist is concerned that it indicates a higher chance that his condition is prone to long-term seizure activity. He wants to make sure that the meds Evy has now minimizes activity by 100% . . . with no break through activity. If we do that, then the chance is greater that the gene that is causing this will become dormant.


The old medicine did control the seizures for the most part, but it did not completely control all seizure activity. I think that it may be hard to understand how he could be having seizure activity without any of us realizing it; it helps to remember that Evy's typical seizures were very short absent seizures. Some were short enough for me to not see but were long enough to jar him into falling.

Because the overall number of times he was having seizures has decreased and because the old medicine was really hard on him and is difficult to pair with other medicines designed to control seizures, he was put on a safer medicine that works well if it is necessary to be with others.

The doctor's#1 theory right now is that this is genetic.  No, neither Erik or I have oral or written medical histories that anyone in our families had seizures.

So, he is on his new meds for several weeks to get the dosage in his body to a therapeutic level and in mid-May he will have an outpatient EEG to see if an additional medication is needed for 0% seizure activity as detected by the EEG.  Robot Man will be in full outfit, once again.

If another medication is needed, we'll put him on it and repeat the EEG after a few more weeks.

Since last week, there were a couple of times when he has fallen and doesn't understand why. I am hoping that in a couple of weeks I no longer see that.

His new medicine makes him very lethargic, slightly cranky and appetite whonky. The doctor said that should diminish in a couple of weeks.  So far, that hasn't really happened.  We'll go to the playground and all he wants to do is lay down on the ground.
In all, the news could be better, but we are grateful to have better information, a less dangerous medication, the hope that he could still outgrow this, and data that he is having fewer seizures.

At the follow-up appointment, the doctor was an hour and a half late.  I had both boys with me, and I was able to entertain them and keep good vibes going.  (Granted I was worn out by the time the doctor actually arrived, but it could have been WAY worse.)

As the doctor was leaving the exam room after explaining everything and being questioned by me, he said,"You are really patient."

I about dropped to the floor because PATIENCE would not be, what I would list, in my top 5 virtues.  He then went on to explain how I was so patient through the hospitalization and waiting for news and how patient I had been that morning with his tardiness and with managing my boys.

No one ever compliments the mom.  It was nice to see that someone noticed the effort I had been putting into the situation.

We ended our follow-up with an unexpected blood draw.  Typically, when Evy has a blood draw coming up, we prep.  We remind him of how it hasn't been bad before in the lab, we bring a Medic Dino, etc.  However, while in the hospital for his video EEG, the technicians went all out and did a full body restraint to take his blood (I think it was completely unnecessary, but they were doing it and the damage had been done before I could intervene).  So, hearing blood draw put Everett into full panic mode.

I was tearing eyed when leaving the lab after it all, so choked up I had a hard time hiding it from Everett.  The absolute blood curdling screaming that he let loose during the blood draw combined with the new lacklustery news was overwhelming.

No, the seizures do not hurt him.  They do, if not controlled, decrease his intellectual capability.  And, if they aren't controlled, they may prevent him from overcoming the seizure disorder completely.

For now, we try to keep him feeling upbeat even though he is tired all of the time.  We watch for seizure activity.  We pray that this plan will be what he needs to fully heal his brain.

***Note:  One of the most important lessons I have learned through all this is that the EEG is just a snapshot of the brain's activity.  The EEG can be administered and not pick up any seizure activity.  But, that just means that while the patient was having the EEG, there was no seizure activity.  It does not mean that the patient does not have any seizure activity at all.  I wish that the first pediatric neurologist had more clearly explained this to me.   This is why we were in the hospital for 3 days with the video EEG; the doctor wanted a longer snapshot to get a more detailed pictures of what was happening.  It is not unusual for patients to be in the hospital for up to 10 days with the video EEG, so that the neurologist can get a true sense of the seizure activity.

Robot Man's Adventure

We left home at 5:00 am on Monday and drove to Texoma Medical Center.  We were ready.

Goal: Quickly wean Everett of his anti-seizure medication and check on seizure activity. As of his last EEG, a year ago, he was having, on average, 50 "absent" seizures a day.  Prior to medication, he had several grand mal seizures, whenever overly tired or sick.

Hopeful Outcome: Since he has been seizure free for a year, we are hoping the EEG shows no seizure activity, which will result in no more medication.

This is the view from our window on the pediatric floor. s.w.e.e.t.  Poor babies can't even see nature being all cooped up.

Evy is ready and surrounded by love.  In this picture alone, the red blanket and pillow (and a book you can't see) were given to Evy to wish him luck.  Both the pillow and the blanket were handmade and he was so excited to receive them from the hospital staff.

This was our activity "bank."  It had several purposes:  help Everett become excited about going to the hospital when we made it, remind Sheila of what to do when we got there, help Everett visually pick out the next part of our adventure.  And, it worked REALLY well!  (I packed tons of games, books, movies, lots of art materials, puzzles, cars, experiments, and several gifts for him to open.) 

Note: It is tempting to just let the kid watch shows, right? Well, there are drawback to that besides the obvious that it doesn't do anyone good to watch TV 24 hours. We needed seizure activity checking. I needed him to be doing things so that I could see if he was having a seizure. If you have absent seizures and you are watching TV, you CAN'T tell! I wanted him doing his normal activities in case there was something in particular that triggered his seizures, and who wants to wean a TV addict kid once he gets home from the hospital? not. me.

It didn't take long being attached to the wires for Everett to start calling himself Robot Man with the Robot Box (battery/computer for the EEG machine).

Here is the video EEG monitor.  And Everett.  And the wiring, like 26 wires.  Taped heart monitor-wire-thingy on his chest (he hated that one).  There was the security monitor on his ankle and then his ID bracelet ("Can't I JUST CUT IT OFF?!")  And, his FIRST present of the day (Thank you, Aunt Mandy, Preston and Riley!).

I don't remember. 

The staff at the hospital was just great.  The only times that were tense were during blood-draw (duh!), gluing the wiring, and removing the wiring.  They were great at clearing up any miscommunication from the doctor.  We were really lucky!

He charmed the nurses.  At the beginning of each shift, the nurse assigned to Evy would run in to say that she got "lucky because Evy is every one's favorite patient."  Evy would have long conversations with the housecleaning staff, and whenever food services delivered the food he would exclaim,"I LOVE your food!"

One morning, the housekeeper came in and started taking out the trash and linen. 

He introduced himself,"Hi, my name is Everett."

She paused,"Hi, I'm Sally."

He replied,"Oh, there is a car on the show Cars named Sally."

She stopped again and said,"Oh, I didn't even know that.  I learned something today."

A few minutes later, he asked,"What are you doing?"

She replied with,"Cleaning up the room.  It is my job."

Evy watched her a little longer and said,"Do you do this every day?"

"Yes."

Evy then asked,"Don't you get bored?"

To which she BUSTED up laughing and said,"yes."

A few minutes later she was mopping and he exclaimed,"You mop WEALLY (really) FAST!"

Playing fishing.

I love the look of concentration.  Erik has this same look when he is concentrating.

Another present, Spiderman Socks!

I AM ROBOT MAN doing the robot.

This was the beginning of our first experiment:  Everett's Airplane Experiment.  We were testing several flying objects to see which went the furthest.  We gathered the materials a couple of days ahead, got Evy excited about the project, and then went with it on Monday. (PS, you can see his Magic Cape in the upper left of the picture (Awesome, Aunt Elise!))

Dad came that evening for a couple of hours and was key in the experiment actualization.

The Data

The "Robot Box" that Erik is holding for Everett is the battery to the EEG machine.  It was an ambulatory machine, but, there really wasn't anywhere to go.  There was a playroom, but the unit was occupied by sick children as well as kids getting EEGs done.  So, we weren't too motivated to spend much time there.  OK, back to the experiment.

The Winner:  Foam Rocket

Highlight of another experiment--we used those "sponge dinos" in a capsule and wondered if hot or cold water would make the covering dissolve faster.

Evy's guess was HOT.

He was right!  (okay, we did a lot of these types of experiments and even though they weren't elaborate, they were cheap, kept our attention, and were fun to do . . . take a look at the food.  The burnt pizza was an anomaly.  Everett basically loved the food.)

Trying to take care of the itches.

By Day 3, I was working it  . . . origami.  "look at the cool cup that we made and put our snack in!"

Greek God inspired decorations compliments of Cousin Preston (and they were much better than the icky floral print).

One of the best things that I brought:  Painter's tape.  We made roads, used the tape to hang stuff, used the tape to "capture and wrap evil cars."  Next time, I need to bring paperclips and yarn as well.

After 3 days and 2 nights hooked up to wires, confined to a bed, and dragging a Robot Box to the bathroom, Evy was given the green light to go home.  The doctor had the information that he needed.

Bath time!  After the EEG technician poured the solution to "dissolve" the glue, he took a bath. 

There was quite a lot, I mean, quite a lot of glue left even after the five hair washings.  You can see some of it here on his forehead.

Freedom Dance! 

When we arrived home, a "Brave Guy Trophy" full of Cheetos was ready for him.  He has been asking for months how he can "get a trophy" and we found a way to end all this on a high note.

Left over glue.

During all this, Merritt stayed with friends each morning.  Erik would bring him home to nap and then Merritt would visit another friend in the evening to allow Erik to come visit Evy giving Sheila a break for a bit.  Erik would pick up Merritt in the late evening and start all over the next day.  In all, it was the best structure we could come up with since the hospital was an hour away from home.  The unknown in all this was that the car that Erik was driving needed a new transmission.  Each time he drove the distance, we all prayed that he would make it without the engine falling out of the car.

On Wednesday, we celebrated with slides and hamburgers and then chicken.  We were all glad to be reunited.  I was ready to spend some time with Merritt.  Our first night back was the pits.  Evy was used to someone sleeping in his room.  All of our sleeping schedules were out of whack.  At the hospital, the nurse comes in to check vitals every four hours during the night.  Yeah, that wakes you up. 

Most of the glue is out now.  Over 20 washings.  Conditioner and a soft bristle brush and a dad named Erik were the biggest reasons why Evy is almost glue free.

In the end, Evy is on a different medication that is safer to take.  It will prevent seizures and allow his brain to continue to heal.  We will continue to do bloodwork every three months.  We'll be back for another EEG in 6 months to determine progress.  In all, his seizures decreased by 90% in one year.  It is rare for someone to be diagnosed with "absent" seizures as young as he was.   At the same time, it allowed us to get access to the care that he needs so that when he starts school those issues are minimized or (cross your fingers) gone altogether.  We feel very blessed and lucky!

So many people helped us.  Evy was given care packages, prayers, messages, and calls at the hospital.  Several friends helped very willingly with Merritt.

For me, the week was exhausting.  All of my energy and focus were spent on keeping Evy happy and occupied.  Whenever Erik would come to relieve me for a couple of hours, I just wanted to crawl into a comfy hole and sleep.  Instead, I would leave, get a quick bite to eat, and roam a store or two.  The particle board I slept on was incredibly awful.  One dad said that his bunk in Iraq was more comfortable.  Each time I turned my aching body over, trying to sleep, ignoring the shooting pains in my back and hips, I was so grateful that I knew this was a short day.  I am grateful for healthy children.  I am grateful to have children that don't need continual hospitalization.  I feel very blessed.


My allergies were raging lunatics during this time.  I felt pretty bad.  One night, I opened my eyes and saw Evy, in sillouette--the lights from the machine outlining him in the dark, in front of me, he had his Robot Box slung over his shoulder and was reaching out to put his hand on my forehead.

"Mom, where is that computer temperature thing for your forehead?"

"It is at home, Evy."

"Mom, I need it to check and see how sick you are."  And then he rubbed my face and padded my arm and told me he hoped I felt better soon.

"Can I get you sumthin', Mom?"

"No, thank you.  I'll be okay."

"Okay, night-night." And he walked with his Robot Box over his shoulder to his bed, gently placed the box down, pulled his silky blankie over him and said,"I wuv you."

That is our Evy!

Kids Ain't Dumb

Evy is READY for his Hospital Adventure.  We have the most awesome family and friends who have been so good to give us cards, presents for him to open, loving hugs, a blessing, an awesome coloring book, and lots of messages of love and good luck.  Currently, he's managing his scared feelings and is excited.

Over the past couple of days we looked at pictures and a couple of videos of the EEG.  He has had an EEG before, just not a video EEG.  After seeing what was going to happen, he turned to me and said,"I got it Mom."

And, bedtime with Merritt went awfully this evening.  Merritt is hysterical.  It is 9:30 and he can't be consoled.  He WILL NOT go to bed.  He knows something is going on.  He'll be with friends and Erik over the next two days.  I'll be with Everett.  It will be the longest it has been that I've been away from Merritt.  (Thinking about that makes me uncomfortable.)  It will be, hands down, the longest that Merritt will be without his buddy Evy. 

I packed a huge suitcase and a couple of bags for Evy and then I realized that I needed to pack for myself.  I get to sleep on the hospital "chair" for a couple of nights.  I'm gonna have to figure out where to shower.  Right now, I am exhausted.  I've tried to think of everything. 

I hope that they have Dr. Pepper in the vending machines.

Later, Gators.

My Sweet Sleeping Accommodations

State of the Neurons: An Update

Good news from the neurologist today!  He thinks it is time to try and wean Evy off his anti-seizure medication.

In order to do that, we are going to need to do a video monitored EEG.  Which means he'll be admitted to the hospital, hooked up to an EEG machine for 24-48 hours.  This will track the seizure activity as he comes off his medication and will tell us if there is any seizure activity.  He'll be video taped the entire time.  Since one of his parents will be with him, too, we have to make sure to remember to not pick our noses . . . unless we want someone to watch us picking our noses.

Really not looking forward to needing to go this route to determine the next step.  Would rather just have a regular EEG and see how things go.  But, in the end, Heavenly Father will provide what we need because we doing our best to provide for Everett.

One of the things I have come to have an extremely firm belief through this is that parents really do know their kids.  I saw this when I was a teacher.  Sometimes, I had to *really* listen to what they were saying to get the intent of what they were saying in order to remedy a situation.  But, when I did that, the situation always improved.  Several people poo-pooed me when I took Everett into the neurologist the first time when he was one.  "Febrile seizures are no big deal."

I was right to do it.  I was right to take him in again, when he was three, even though most wrote it off as another one of his febrile seizures.  Seizures are complicated things.  The brain, as much as we know about it, is a complicated organ.  Oddly, when I was talking to his neurologist a year ago, I felt slightly comforted that he was as concerned as I was about some of the things I had noticed.  Not because I wanted there to be a problem with Everett, but I kind of wanted some indication of how cuckoo I may or may not be.  I wasn't.  The doctor listened and I witnessed a tremendous level of development in Everett once his medication was at a therapeutic level.

He is still hesitant around water.  He'll go into the water now without holding our hand.  At the same time, I read a book with Everett about being baptized at the age of eight, and from that point on, at random moments, he'll say, "I don't want to be baptized."  And, it is because the idea of going underwater terrifies him, still.  (Erik and Everett were dropping off a thank you note at a neighbor's house and in the middle of the conversation, Everett says,"I don't want to be baptized."  Poor kid; it is still bothering him.)

I am praying that his brain has had enough seizure-free time to heal so that he can be seizure free.

Just as we were leaving the neurologist, Everett said that he needed to ask the doctor a "qweshtion."  Erik tracked the doctor down in his office and Evy said,"I have a cough."  Poor guy.  I bet he was wondering why we went to the doctor today and didn't say a thing about what has been immediately bothering him so much.

On the way home from the neurologist, we talked about living things.  Everett started the conversation by asking me if "trees are alive, cars are alive, food is alive, bears are alive, tater tots are alive . . . ."  We talked about how some things are made by God and some things are made by man.  Only things made by God can have life (in the way he was defining it).  God gives life.

"That's pretty good to know."

SnotFest 2011: The Count

• 6, no, 8 boxes of Kleenex (found two more after I counted yesterday), that means 880 tissues were used, don't let me intimidate you with my math skills
• 170 cough drops, about
• 3 trips to urgent care
• some onions
• 2  6 prescriptions
• 2 4 trips to the doctor (Erik is there right now hoping to get got a magical cure, and I went right after so I could get one, too.)
• 1 bottle of Chestall (helped Merritt, it is honey based, check it out)
• 3 cases of pink eye
• 4 nights where Sheila and Merritt slept not one wink
• 3 weeks of coughing, snotty noses, sore noses, no voices, non-breathing, fevers
• lots and lots of cold/cough/flu medicine
• sleep interruptus
• 1 stethoscope
• french fries, too many to count
• teabags, I lost count
• prayers of desperation
• blessings of healing
• nosespray
• 2 humidifiers constantly running
• Vapo magic oil
• my awesome digital thermometer
• 1 container of baby Mentholatum rub
• more loads of laundry than I though possible for us to get dirty (and, no, I didn't fold like the last 6 loads, in fact, I am sitting beside 4 loads right now.  Kind of companionable at this point)
• 1 awesome tube of Aquaphor for the sore noses

And, yes, all of us had the flu shot in October.

My voice is gravel-y.  Don't be too jealous.

Snot vs Phlegm: Bodily Fluid SmackDown

Joining the action live is Momma (whose ring name is SLEEPLESS):

Oh yeah!  We've got quite a wrestling match going on today!  I've never seen it to this degree.  We have eye boogers, nose boogers, sneeze spray, and the stuff you cough up.

Both Evy and Merritt are hosting matches of viral skill that I have never seen the likes of in all my life.

Rosy cheeks, exclamations of discomfort, fevers, coughs, sneezes, and runny noses are chased by tissues, yelled reminders to "wash hands," hugs, humidifiers, more hugs, french fries, sporadic cleaning of boogers and slimy smears found everywhere, and lots of lap time!

The action is unparallelled*!


And me, well, I'm okay just as long as I have my cough drops.  Controls the stuffy nose and cough.  I'll worry when Erik gets home about how badly it makes me toot (My mom always said not to say the word "fart.").

PS  Merritt's naked jaunts took on a new function today.  He decided to try out peeing and pooping in the potty.  Success of the highest kind for him!  Kind of surprising since he can't even say any of those words.  (and, no, I didn't think we would start potty training today.)

*Did you know I had an internal debate on how to spell it?  "lled" or "led"---then I realized it is an "American" vs "British" spelling debate.  FYI:  I went the Brit way.  Blame it on all those British authors I read.  True Story.

Mom Is Lady Crankerpants

I am totally cranky today. I just can't kick it.  I have a pretty bad cold and I think I am just tired of being down and out.

I am tired of being stuck inside, making sure I don't overdo it, even though I overdo it plenty while being inside.

I am tired of staring at my dirty kitchen floor.

The boys have been sick.  Both are better.  Evy has a leftover cough and we are still on the 4 times a day meds for Merritt's pink eyes.

Today, I am tired of being a human climbing structure.  Tired of being kicked in the chest when I change diapers, tired of being the one in charge.

I am just feeling sorry for myself.  Poor me.  Really high on the selfpity.  I just need to get over it, as I cough up some phlegm.

Who decided how to spell phlegm anyway?  Some latin word origin, maybe, but I am pretty sure that at sometime some society spelled it with an 'f'.

In all, I am extremely blessed, really.  Super friend Connie came over a couple of times last week so I could get a nap and continue healing.  And, it does look pretty, today, with everything covered in snow.  And, I get lots of hugs from my boys.  And, I am wearing soft socks.  And, Merritt is giggling at Curious George and both of them are sitting next to me, all quiet and still for a moment.

Shimmer Me Funny

The surgery went well as far as I know.  I've got a bunch of stitches, some purple marker marks, some skin "glue," and a betadine stain across my chest and armpit as results of my surgery. 

The surgical center made sure that the "correct" side was operated on.  I initialed the appropriate boob, as well as the surgeon, before I was wheeled into the operating room.

I've been mostly either asleep or pre--eett--yyy out of it since the surgery.  Lots of good pain medicine.  Most things are pretty funny when I'm on these meds and my own comical quotient jumped like 400 times as well.  Well, I'm the only one that thinks I am funnier.

I've been a very, very lucky girl.  So many people have shown their support and love for my family this week.  Multiple offers to take care of my kids, bring us meals, or whatever else we need.  And, we have been accepting help.  The help has been a tremendous blessing for my family.  Seriously.

I go for a follow-up next week so the surgeon can check my incision and share pathology results.

I'm only allowed to pick up things that are less than eight pounds for a week.  I've been good in following directions, mostly.

The Pirate is gone!

V.Bucket

My earliest memory of missing out on "holiday" fun was when I was really, really young.  We were visiting family up north for Christmas, and it had SNOW!  In my mind, the snow piles were like eight feet high!  I had a cold and couldn't go out.  I remember looking out the door at a girl who was able to play, wishing I could be out there with her.  (When I was there, I did get to use a hot water bottle--that part was pretty neat.)

The next memory and actually saddest one was when I was eight.  We, in our children's group, were going to sing for a nursing home.  Especially as a young child, I LOVED to sing, and I LOVED to sing Christmas songs, and I was excited to go somewhere to help others feel better.  The morning of the anticipated day, I woke up with chicken pox.  I remember sobbing because I wasn't allowed to go and could not understand how the presence of some little rash could drastically change my plans.  (duh).  I was so disappointed.

Since then, I've had the occasional cold, but I was always able to participate in holiday cheer. 

This weekend, Merritt and I have been busy with the stomach flu.  Missed a couple of parties.  No fun.

Hhhmmm, at least I'm not at the party getting sick from some germ floating around there.  Grateful to avoid those germs. Grateful for the miracle of Tylenol and the healing properties it has for aches and chills. Grateful for vomit buckets. Grateful for those bottles of Gatorade I forgot we had in the pantry.  Grateful my other two guys are avoiding this latest bout of yuck.  Grateful for parents who will never think I am too old to call and ask to help me "think 'cause it hurts too much to do it by myself."  They even called back several times to check on us.


Merritt said a word that sounded like "keys" today when he was pointing to them. Progress even when ill.

Walk the Plank You Scurvy Scum!

From Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest

Notification to The Pirate:

Ye will walk the plank o'er the Sea o' Pain on December 20th.  Gar! We will part our merry ways.  Me, to bask in t' joy and attention o' family and me fellow maties. And, I'll be e'en more appreciati'e o' what me have this fine holiday season.

Ye, well, ye will be sent t' Pathologist t' check for any, well, "scurvey dog cells."

Ye have been put on notice.  Don't get any ideas and start lootn' and plundern' in the meantime.  Got me eye on ye.  Ye'll ne'er get me buried treasure!  Arrr!

(Ahoy, the surgery be scheduled on the same special day when my special Mate, Erik, and me war married fourteen years ago.  What a way t' celebrate!  Argh!)