Birthdays,boyhood, and bruises

I can't wrap my mind around Kellan turning 8 . How has he gotten this old already? Old enough to help out with a lot of responsibilities in our home. Old enough to do many tasks independently. Old enough to make a choice to be baptized. He is losing the magic of being a little boy, and sneaking quietly into the realm of responsibilities. I couldn't be more proud of this kid.

He is an all star kind of boy. He has gradually moved away from eating, sleeping, breathing about video games. And has replaced it with his ambition to develop a 6 pack. Yes, you read that right. His interest focuses on all things that will give him bigger muscles.

He has a lot of charisma. This kid can melt into any circumstance and feel right at home. He is very confident, tender hearted, and everybody's friend. I like those traits in him very much. This year in school has been great for him too. He was nervous of the teacher he was assigned to. Kids have given her the reputation of being the strict one. But she was perfect for Kellan and he learned how much he loves her, and how it isn't good to predetermine things about a person until you give them a chance. She has said great remarks about him this year. "He's the kind of person who has his own way of finding a solution for an answer, sometimes in ways unexpected, but he arrives at the right answer." I love that! He will go far in life with that ability.

He learned this year about the truth of magical characters, and the magic in people. He makes dreams and plans all the time for things he wants to create when he is grown up. He talks about someday when he has a wife and kids like it is his second nature already. "I will need a limousine of course, because I will probably have 10 kids." That's my Kellan! Functioning at full capacity on every cylinder!

And only being eight for one day, he nearly had to reconsider all of his big plans coming up! Maxwell was curious and picked up a 20 lb kettle weight in the sports department. And instantly dropped it on Kellan's foot. He wooed the ladies at the hospital, and was insistent that we didn't cancel his birthday party. He even hammed it up while waiting for an X-ray. Thankfully it was just a good size bruise and some soft tissue swelling. Nothing broken! This time. I love this brown eyed, curly headed little boy. Heavenly Father couldn't have sent me a sweeter son to fulfill the big brothers place in our family.

Perfectly flawed

A waterbearer in India had two large pots, one hung on each end of a pole, which she carried across her neck.

One of the pots had a crack in it. While the other pot was perfect, and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the mistress's house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to her master's house.

The perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream: "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you."

Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"

"I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your mistress's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in her compassion she said, "As we return to the mistress's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some.

But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side?

“That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them.

“For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my mistress's table. Without you being just the way you are, she would not have this beauty to grace her house."

Moral: One person might feel proud of their situation, and look upon yours as it is flawed. You might even feel yourself as flawed. We all are flawed pots. Whether the flaw is to have cracks, or not have cracks. It is what we do with our ability that makes the difference.

I don't look at my situation and think I have a lot of misfortunes as others might. I feel a purpose, I find the blessings every day. There always are blessings to be seen. And I share my flaws openly, not to complain. But to let others who may struggle more emotionally in their life that they are not alone.

I also share my triumphs and joys. But if that is all I was willing to share about my life, then I wouldn't consider myself being a good steward with those blessings. Some of them come after trials or losses. And the gratitude I have for my life is to give thanks for it all.

What a pain

Last weekend, I woke up Friday morning with the worst headache I had ever felt. Sharp pain in the base of my skull/ neck, down my entire spine. And nerve pain radiating down both legs. I was just a day over the "watch for symptoms week" after having a spinal injection in my back. I worried a little, looked up meningitis symptoms, then thought maybe I was just getting a weird sickness, since I didn't have a fever.

So I put it out of my mind to focus on Easter weekend with the kids. Easter Bunny visits on Saturday, and I woke up that morning to excited kids in a sugar rush...and a fever for me.

By Sunday morning, we weren't happily getting ready to go to church and feel the spirit of the resurrected Christ. Instead, I was on my way to the ER with a 102 fever.

Some blood work, a CT without contrast of my brain, and a chest X-ray showed all normal results. Except a depleted white cell count. So I had to have a spinal tap (awful experience!) which showed a trace of bacterial infection, but not meningitis. A bag of antibiotics later, I was sent home to mend.

James had just dropped me off and was taking care of 4 kids at home. So he came back to get me. The gas tank was empty, but he was hoping we would make it.

We did. Sort of. The car started to shut things down and we were coasting through the intersection. James barely rolled into the gas station parking lot! Luckily, there was a kind police officer to came to help push us up to a pump, and seeing his example then two other guys felt inclined to help too.

Meanwhile I was sitting in the front seat feeling like death. I had never felt so awful, I was kind of scared. I mean, they did just pierce a hole in my spinal cord! One of the men had asked if I was ok, James informed them we just left the hospital, and I proceeded to throw up in the little blue souvenir bag they gave me. So lovely.

By the time we got home, I was in excruciating pain and wanted to lay down. Every time I would sit up, my head was in worse pain than before I went to the hospital. After reading some of the paper work i learned I now had a spinal headache.

So Monday we went back to the ER. They tried a few tricks of helping the pain, but finally resorted to doing a blood patch. I thought the spinal tap was awful, I was wrong! This is where they took a catheter into position in my spine where they had done the spinal tap, then took a vial of blood out of my arm and immediately injected it into my spinal cord. Sheer pain from my tailbone to my skull! After about an hour, my headache eased up, and they tried to get my blood pressure to perk up enough to help me make it home.

But it wasn't for long. Because it was another injection into the spine, the blood helped patch the leak caused by the spinal tap. But it likely caused another leak, and the excruciating pain returned. So Thursday we went back. For the third time.

This time they kept me overnight to monitor me. They said a second blood patch should fix it. But I was less than inclined to have another needle poked in my back. Ever. Instead, I had my bishop and the Elders come by and give me an anointing and a blessing of healing.

The pain was manageable with medicine after that, so I was sent home with instruction to lay horizontal as much as possible and give it a week.

It has been a rough year for us with many trials. But we have had amazing warriors helping us through it. Between the friends who came into my home and cleaned it, who gave me a ride home from the hospital, who fed my family, James's mother mowing our lawn...we have been greatly blessed and sustained through this trial. How can I have any other opinion than that we will be ok through it all?

Boy Scouts

Kellan is finally at that age where all things boy scouts fill his little mind. I was so happy when he said he couldn't wait to join scouts. But because we preferred him to join our church's troop, he did have to wait. 2 extra years. Which, to a little boy DYING to be involved is an eternity! The Boy Scouts of America start at 6 for tiger scouts, but our church didn't adopt the tiger program. They start with bobcats. But they also combined the scouting program with activities days for boys 8-11, so our church boys are 2 years older when they start scouts.

We contemplated letting Kellan join another local troop when they came around to the elementary school. He was dealing with a lot of anxiety and we felt like he needed something individual to feel involvement with. But with James out of work, it limited our choices so we decided on scouts. Then, in talking with some of our ward scout leaders, they invited Kellan into the troop because he was old enough to be a bobcat in their program. He was over the moon! If I let him, he would have slept in his scout shirt. I was so relieved to see my little boy stress a little less about his life and enjoy himself again.

I was surprised to find controversy after being in the program for almost 6 months. An email came from one of the leaders, because a parent complained about "fairness" of her child having to wait until he was 8. Kellan wasn't earning any of the achievements for the boys who were already 8. He was only accomplishing tasks based on the BSoA outline, no unreasonable exception was made on his behalf. It was petty. He was heartbroken to learn that the feelings of a parent may take president over the feelings of a little boy, and that he might have to miss scouts for 2 months until his birthday. But we challenged the discussion by pointing out in the handbook it replaced activity day boys but did not have to restrict the age of scouts if the individual scout leader was accepting of the age set by the BSoA. Kellan was allowed to stay. (just not earn any awards. Despite that he was old enough. Oh well. It was a small victory we were happy with.)

So the day for the pinewood derby arrived, he was so happy to be included in it and talked about his car for days before he started on it! The idea and method were all his own ideas, with help from his dad for the initial cutting of it. I was so proud of him for how satisfied he was with his work.

Of course every little boy wants to win first place. We didn't search the Internet for secrets and tips to maximize that, we wanted his first experience to be genuine to his own achievement and level. And now he has some ideas on how to improve on it for next year! He was thrilled to win against a couple of the boys, and humble to lose too.

He watched the score board keep track of the racers as it narrowed down, getting so excited to see who would win. A couple rematches ensued, lots of cheering for their friends. He loved it thoroughly.

Until he saw a boy who came in second place not get the award. It was mistakingly given to another boy, who's parents watched every detail of the race, knew their son had lost ( you could tell they were disappointed.) but when their son was given the award mistakingly, they said nothing. This was not lost on Kellan, and he was quite sad for the little boy who didn't get the award. The irony of "following rules" and trying to keep Kellan out of the program, but accepting an award for their son that he did not earn was not lost on us.

He congratulated both boys anyway, and was an amazing sport about the whole situation. It wasn't his place or award to make a fuss about.

He painted flames on his car, and the number 88 after Earnhart Jr's car. So he was given an award for "most realistic." And his mock drivers license went right into his wallet.

This is the stuff that makes life worth it. The smile that was glued to his face for days afterward makes me look forward happily to many more boy filled events and activities. He's a pretty cool kid. When asked about his car, he said "My dad gave me lots of good tips. It was awesome." He's so right.

Deep breath

Max has had this weird way of breathing often for about a year now. When he is relaxed, nothing strenuous going on, he would exhale in a strained way like he was partly trying to clear his throat while huffing out. And he would say things like "My breath is making me mad." He is my only kid to get croup. Anytime a cold virus makes its round in the family, his comes with croup. It sounds awful. First time experiencing that he was 6 or 7 months old, and he strained so hard to breath it ended up needing a trip to the ER. So with this new way he was breathing every day, I wondered if he had an underlying respitory issue.

So before Christmas, he had another round of croup, and we talked to the pediatrician about it. She just checked his tonsils, said they looked fine, maybe it was his adenoids. I knew in my gut it wasn't anything like that. I had hoped for a more definitive answer before any major problem occurred.

Fast forward to two weeks ago. Maxwell woke up about 7:30, and started coughing. I heard the familiar seal bark and thought "oh no, croup again." But he kept coughing and wheezing, I could hear he wasn't catching a breath. He was panicking in the living room with Kellan, who became annoyed at his little brother coughing all over him. Kellan didn't realize the severity. I yelled for Max to come to me (as I was running to him too) and found him PURPLE and clawing his throat.

One of the scariest moments of my life!

I grabbed the nebulizer to give him a treatment of albuterol, and placed a cold wet wash cloth across his throat. Works like a charm for croup. But he was still wheezing so hard. I did a second treatment, not much better and I was considering calling for an ambulance. He was able to catch his breath a bit better now, so I decided to just take him myself.

I had his window rolled down as I drove, and the cool 45 degree morning air opened his lungs right up. Made me look like a liar when we arrived at the ER!

He was still wheezing though, and I wanted him checked out. He was seen first by a respitory therapist. His oxygen saturation was borderline low. After I explained the incident, I said "I don't know if he has asthma, I've been wondering for a while now." to which he replies "of course he does, you don't have episodes like that otherwise."

Then the ER doc comes in, says it likely wasn't croup because the peak season isn't right now, probably RSV. Said he had an upper respitory infection is all. I disagreed with that so much so, that when I later got a call from the hospital as a follow up, they asked me if I wanted to comment on my care. I said they could tell their no-exam doctor that RSV is a quick swab to test, which he did not do. And that Max had a case of RSV a few weeks before. He had no fever, and by the end of the day wasn't wheezing even the slightest, absolutely was not a sick boy.

The respitory therapist suggested a 5 day steroid. And wouldn't ya know, he didn't even do his "huff" way of breathing that became the daily norm for so long.

So we had a follow up with the pediatrician about the ER and the episode. Of course it was asthma. I wish I would have been listened to better when I said I was concerned about the way he was breathing every day! Blood test showed no allergy to trigger an episode. So he will be referred to for some pulmonary tests.

In the mean time, he has an inhaler steroid every day, and albuterol every morning. He has a little device to blow in for "peak flow measurements" which he enjoys doing. He loves trying to get the level as high as he can, like a strong man swinging a hammer on a scale contest. Often I see him grabbing his medicine bag just to check his peak flow. Optimal range for his age and height would be 130-160. His normal is below, at 125. Even with the medication. It makes me wonder before all of this, when he had labored breathing, how low his air flow was then. He has not had that strained way of breathing since beginning the steroid inhaler.

We now deal with a 4 year old wild man with a little bit of 'roid rage. But that's a whole 'nother blog entry! I am, however, very grateful to know this is something he will deal with, and can be better prepared.

We talked with the older kids about his asthma, and when to get an adult. Kellan felt very badly for being annoyed at Max's episode, and has been pretty concerned about every cough since then. It is touching though, to see how deeply Maren and Kellan care about him. I hope they always have his back.

A full heart

I call Kellan my miracle baby. He truly is.

When I was 12 weeks pregnant, I miscarried. My provider did some blood work, it showed dropping HCG levels, indicative of a non-viable pregnancy. But the levels were nearly double what they normally are at 12 weeks. In my first pregnancy with Maren, I had a twin that stopped developing early, a lost baby but Maren still thrived. So I asked what the chances were of another baby still holding on, since I had only seen one baby pass during the miscarriage. My midwife said "I don't want you to have false hope. Your levels wouldn't drop if a healthy baby was still there. It would be best for you to schedule a D&C so you can grieve and process emotionally."

But my heart tugged at me that there was still reason to hope. I asked for an ultrasound before scheduling a procedure, but because my midwife documented complete miscarriage, she said my insurance wouldn't pay for one. I said I didn't care, I wanted one first.

And there, we saw Kellan, thriving away. Development was right on track, strong heart beat. My midwife was shocked, she had never heard of dropping HCG levels with a thriving baby. What had happened was there was a twin that shared a placenta with Kellan.  When the twin passed away, the placenta partially detached, but not fully due to Kellan being a miracle. My levels were high due to twins, and weren't lowering necessarily, but more like normalizing to one baby.

He was a normally healthy, robust little boy. I called him my baby tank. When he was 3 & 1/2, he and I both got salmonella poisoning from a peanut contaminated product on an airplane. After that episode, he had one illness after another. So many trips to a pediatrician for the salmonella, then influenza Type A and pneumonia, followed by measles. And then shortly after that, he had a fever with many weird symptoms like swollen genitals and tongue, sensitive eyes, purple nails. I called the pediatrician, but they simply said to bring him in if his fever got to a certain level, and watch for other worrisome signs. He had a fever for 11 days! It was finally figured out in a random and miraculous way. My friend Tiffany's little girl had a fever for 3 days, and the pediatrician wanted her to be admitted to the children's hospital for possible Kawasaki disease. Thankfully, she didn't have that and was sent home the next day. But it made me think "what is that?" So I read about it. Kellan had 8 out of 11 symptoms, and typically in kids as young as him they may only experience 5 and can still be diagnosed. So back to the pediatrician we went. She dismissed it at first because he didn't have peeling feet. Which is actually not as common in children who experience that illness. But on my insistence, she sent him for an EKG with a pediatric cardiologist. His coronary vessels were dilated, indicative of the illness. Medium vessels dilate, which is why his genitals and tongue were swollen, and his eyes were sensitive. He also had a heart murmur, nothing seeming like damage from the illness, but he has to have follow up checks every so often.

On Tuesday of last week, he had a follow up EKG in Charlotte. The cardiologist explained the percentages of kids that have permanent damage. Many cases that are detected early have children receiving IV immunoglobulin, and 90% of them recover fully with no lasting damage to the heart. But Kellan's case wasn't caught. My heart was in my throat as he did the tests to determine his situation. "he has a perfectly normal and healthy heart. No sign of damage whatsoever, as if he never had that illness. No murmur anymore either." I was estatic! Music to any parent's ears. I started crying, and thanked Heavenly Father yet another time for such a big blessing for my child. He only has to go back every 5 years now, but can participate in life as any normal kid, no restrictions on his life at all.

As I drove home from the appointment, I reflected back to the first time I saw his heart beating on an ultrasound, all that he made it through with such strength and resilience, to seeing his heart again on an ultrasound as I sat beside him this time. I feel so blessed and thankful to have this little boy in my life, he is amazing.

Terrific Kid

I got a call last week, Monday evening from the guidance counselor at school. I instantly wondered if one of my kids were acting up at school. Why do I always do that? They're great kids! I never wanted to be the mom who says "oh my kids would never do that." so instead I tend to think they're guilty before proven innocent. And first thing out of the counselor's mouth is "this isn't about anything bad,"(whew! I knew that, my kids would never ;) ) ..."but I just wanted to know if you're attending the breakfast tomorrow?"

Uh, for what?

"Maren was nominated for Terrific kid in her class this month for kindness."

Really? How many times I've asked "Maren, tell me about school today." and she didn't think to say "I got the terrific kid nomination!"

It also just so happened that it coincided with Spirit Week, this particular day was "Wacky Day." And I had to take the little ones with me, which of course meant that Maxwell wanted to be wacky dressed too.

The ironic thing is that the stripes and plaid and crazy socks would be Maren's normal day choice. Maybe with matched socks, and her jacket on the right way. She is wild and eccentric, and I adore that girl. She has really stepped up with being tender and helpful with the two little ones, and has mellowed out a lot this last year. She has her moments of mood swings, but she really takes things to heart and tries to do better when she doesn't do her best. She is blooming into such a wonderful young lady.

My personal favorite dress up day for Spirit week was Western day (which replaced pajama day) these cute kids had a lot of fun participating, but really understood it was to raise money for their school so they wanted to use their own money for it. They're both Terrific kids in my book.

Fusion and confusion

James had surgery yesterday on his cervical vertebrae. It has been a long process of lots of MRI's, lots of consults and multiple opinions. Between his specific Psoriatic arthritis, and many complications, there are only 4 surgeons out of 28 in this field in NC who were qualified to address it. That's James! Go big, or go home. 

He had a disc Pressing into his spinal cord, presenting early warnings of slowly becoming paraplegic if they didn't do this surgery. Sounds like a no brainer, but it was a big decision for him. They went in through his throat ( shudder!) to the vertebrae where they sliced, diced, and hammered around. He has a fancy metal plate, and two cervical areas they fused. See the lovely 6 inch battle wound he has to show off?

Finding help with 4 kids is complicated enough. Add in the mix a breasted baby and it can be maddening. Usually I would say "Throw her in the sling, I'm good." But with all of the people in the hospital for flu, and those sick but still visiting others in the hospital, CMC Hospitals banned children under 12. No accommodations. So Scarlett and I hung out in the parking deck with snacks and Baby Einstein DVDs for nearly 5 hours, until James's mom switched off for almost 2 more hours. 

His mom stayed in the family waiting area, and texted me the updates as the surgery progressed, then met with the Surgeon after for the details. Everything went normally, he went ahead and did a second area that he and James had discussed doing at a later time but it was so deteriorated already. I'm glad his mom could be there too, I could not just sit at home and wait for updates. What if he had a complication? What if he died? I could NOT be at peace an hour away. 

After he was moved to recovery, I switched with his mom to keep the baby and went in to wait and see him. I kept mentally preparing myself for how he would look. He was kind enough to show me a video of the same surgery a few days before  (he still doesn't understand my imagination is plenty sufficient. I already could visualize what would happen. The video traumatized me.) So I was sure nervous. 

He was in so much pain, his BP was very high, his oxygen saturation was very low. Basically,other meds that he takes regularly were blocking the pain meds, despite the fact that he stopped taking them a day earlier than what was even recommended to prepare for the surgery. It didn't help. So he felt the full truck load of his pain. It was horrifying, he looked tortured. The girl with him was incredibly sweet, staying with him and calling every 20 minutes to get a pain management consult after hours for him. So he stayed in recovery 2 hours longer than normal. Between seeing him like that, seeing his incision that I expected to be covered, and the pain meds that I took 30 minutes before now kicking in for my back, I got a rush of nerves and anxiety, I about threw up. I had to sit down and breath, and asked for juice to raise my blood sugar. They didn't need another patient! After a few minutes, and covering his neck up, I was good to go. 

The pain meds would work for about 20 minutes before his body blocked them again and she had to give him another dose. But in those brief moments when he was calm and able to relax, the affects from the anesthesia were still obvious. And hilarious!  

I was putting vasoline on his dry lips, and he started talking about Braveheart (we just watched it on TV a few nights before.) but he got frustrated, he said he didn't mean that, he meant to tell me about a battle on a ship. Uh...a pirate ship? No clue. And as I'm still rubbing vasoline on his lips, he says "I meant to look for one for you." Look for what? I ask. "A telescope", he says. And promises to find a rental. 

Thanks babe. 

He is quiet, and hard to hear, but he claims he nearly drove the Tahoe "off the cliff yesterday" (he drove our other car. To church. Not off a cliff.) Apparently he thinks his Aunt Jane lives on said cliff. And again, promises to find a telescope rental for me. 

I only wish my battery hadn't died. He was quite confused. And entertaining. 

Have you any poor among you?

Things like the pictures below have been circulating the Internet for a while. And I have to confess, I have also made a judgement on someone's life from a brief snapshot of what I perceive.

Here's the problem with that. When making a snapshot judgement, do you take inventory of your own personal assets and determine a fall back plan when your life has some hiccups?

Dave Ramsey, a very well known financial guru, said once that the average American is 2 paychecks away from the poor house.

That's an incredible and scary reality. Most of us live within our means, not well below it.

Now imagine that you are an average American. And maybe illness falls upon your family. How great is your medical coverage? How high is your detectable and out of pocket maximum? What plan do you have in place for a major illness that may affect your income?

How about being fired from your employment? How much do you have in a savings account to get by on, and how long can you make that last? A good reserve would be 3 months of expenses. But again, if you're the average American, very little is set aside every paycheck. And in this economy of unemployment, really, you would need 8-18 months of planned expenses saved while you're looking for work.

Now imagine the illnesses that hit your family affected the income earner in your family. And maybe you have 4 small children, one of them a breasted baby. So there you are, no income, major illnesses and medical bills piling up on your family. How much support or savings do you have to take care of the ill person? How would you also manage being the breadwinner on top of all of that?

Our household has also paid taxes. We have been contributing members Of society. I have a smart phone, that I got two years ago as an upgrade to renew my account, I paid very little for it. We got a new car two years ago to get out of negative debt. We were told it was a smart financial move. We saved what we could, didn't live extravagantly, and give to charity as often as we can.

But now we are the face of the poor. That class which many of people around us are arrogantly throwing insults around about. We haven't had an income for 5 months.

How long can you make things stretch until you need assistance? Would you have a wealthy family member or friend to step in and help? Would you have family with a large house to allow you to stay with them? Church donations? Would you consider that assistance any different?

It isn't. For you. Help is help. And you'll be grateful. And hopefully humble. If it is welfare, you're grateful for that too. Or maybe that is all you have. And ideally you'll be determined to get out of an unfortunate situation.

The ironic thing is, those that throw comments like this around are usually a politically conservative individual, of the Christian variety. I'm pretty sure arrogance wasn't an attribute of Christ that Christians are taught to emulate. And a warning is given in scripture to the proud, that pride cometh before a fall.

I believe if we weren't so prideful as a nation, and so quick to judge others by how they live their life, then we would willingly follow one of the greatest commandments to love our neighbors as ourselves, not judge what little you know about their struggles. And if we did that, maybe the loaves of bread we have among us as a nation would be enough to feed the multitudes.

Ever think what the people who brought the loaves of bread thought about that? It probably wasn't along the lines of "I brought this bread, and the person with the iPhone who may have had a tragedy didn't bring any bread, but I'm going to judge them by their iPhone and deem them undeserving of my bread." Probably didn't happen like that. And the bread was shared, and was enough for all of them.

But we don't willingly think like that as a nation. So it is taxed to make sure some in our multitude don't go hungry. And I'm grateful. I've paid taxes for those programs too.

Be grateful for your life. Do better than you did yesterday. Do whatever you can as often as you can. But don't assume you know everything of those you judge. And make sure you aren't gluten intolerant in case you may have to eat your words on a rye sammich.

Classism is the least close to being Christlike that you could be.

Sick little Scarlett

Anytime that my kids are sick, I am glued to them with worry and care. But when they are just a baby it comes with all sorts of bigger anxieties.

Maxwell got sick first, just a fever at first. Scarlett followed suit the next day and they both started coughing. I was supposed to help a friend out by teaching in primary but had to cancel. Momma duty called. I had looked on the CDC website to see what was going around, Flu is higher this year, as is RSV.

Monday night Max's fever broke, he perked right up. Right in time for my comfort zone of watching symptoms for 3 days before intervening if they're not worrisome. But Scarlett got more pitiful. So into the Pediatrician we went. Positive for RSV, neg for Flu. Ok, we can work with that!...but the Doc suspected pneumonia, her fever was now 103.4 so off to the children's ER we went for a chest X-ray.

By the time I took the other kids home with James and drove uptown, her fever had climbed to 105. We attempted some Motrin, girlfriend does NOT like medicine! Weird kid. It didn't settle well, she vomited all over me, that's always awesome. So we had to do a suppository of Tylenol to get that temp down.

In the mean time, queue the know it all nurse with no children assigned to me. She told me not to hold Scarlett, to just lay her on a bed and pat her to calm her. "because babies can't sweat or shiver like we do to cool down, so holding a hot baby is like putting a baby in an oven. (then in a condescending baby voice she adds:) "Nobody wants to be put in an oven."

Seriously? Did she just talk like a baby to me?

So I said "skin contact with a baby, like Kangaroo care which is supported in NICU's, can help her body regulate a healthier temperature. And lower her heart rate (which was at 194). Crying alone would raise her heart rate more (which would be a risk for cardiac arrest) and she does sweat. A lot. So I insist on holding her, if you can't be supportive of that then I'm going to need a new nurse."

So she got me a new nurse. Awesome.

After a ridiculous and torturous looking contraption called a Pig-o-Stat (true story) she had a chest X-ray. Showed significant pneumonia. Poor baby!

She also has bronchiolitis reducing her oxygen saturation. This little girl went BIG for her first time ever being really sick.

They weren't keen on admitting her to the hospital though, I wasn't either. So many kids already there for flu and she doesn't have it. She likely would have gotten it, and her fever did come down with meds so meningitis wasn't a worry, we could go home. I gladly said yes.


She doesn't mind the breathing treatments, she talks to the cute little Penguin nebulizer, smacks him around, let's him know she's the boss.

But in the mean time, I get lots of baby snuggles. And that makes every worry, and every hour of lost sleep, so much more tolerable. Now to get this girl on the mend. 3 days on an antibiotic and she hasn't perked up yet, baby girl is getting her first shot (first of all the kids for a shot of any kind actually) of a stronger antibiotic. With soaring flu cases this year, I don't want to see the inside of an ER again any time soon. So fingers crossed that this shot today helps.