Back Home

I'm back. I probably would not have been able to hold out so long for my blog vacation, but circumstances intervened. Monday, Randy spiked a fever. He didn't seem to be that warm, and since I broke my last thermometer during the last wave of sickness, I just started treating it with tylenol every four hours. Then Tuesday afternoon he began to have muscle spasms. We know now that they were febrial seizures. My kids have never had those before. They are so scary to see. We panicked--of course! We rushed him to the emergency room and he was admitted. For two days he had CAT scans, EEG's, IV fluids, antibiotics...not fun. And the cribs in hospitals are cold metal cages. No way was he going to sleep in that prison cell. So me, the baby and the IV slept (shallowly and at intervals) on the hard fold out bed (read: shelf) for two nights. John took last night's shift. I was so exhausted. I was afraid I was heading for a migraine and then I wouldn't be any help to any body. In all that time, all they could tell us was that the CAT scan showed he had a sinus infection. But I've had a sinus infections for--well, for life--and they've never made me run a 104 fever. Then this morning the doctor comes in to check his heart rate and he has a rosy pink rash all over his torso. Ah hah, now we have a plausible diagnosis. He had Roseola. We also now know that he get febrial seizures, so we must watch his fevers closely and be a little more proactive than one baby dose of tylenol every four hours.
But we are all home now and restored to rest and health. Once the fever passes, the child feels fine, just looks bad. The rash does not itch. Roseola is highly contagious, but is not often caught be individuals over four years old (thank you, Web MD, for giving us that ray of hope). That leaves only Marina--who has not, in two years, been sick one single day--and Ian, who I pray will pass for five when he goes to check his I.D. with Mr. Kick Butt Virus.

It is that time again...

I posted late last summer about the seasonal clothes sort, but I really thought you needed a visual to truly comprehend the magnitude of this task. Gives new meaning to the term, "coming out of the closet." I am readying the children's wardrobes for spring (lasts two weeks here) and summer (lasts nine months). I was almost sickened by the number of garments we have size 6 and under and I only tackled the girls room yesterday. I could hear Matthew 6:19 buzzing in my ear all morning, and I know the time draweth nigh for a purging (aka garage sale).

It always amazes me how we manage to amass so much STUFF. Especially me--I am a certified anti-pack rat. Abashedly, I am feeling the urge to sew (those precious spring fabrics have been calling my name), and despite the obvious lack of need, I most likely will start whipping up sundresses any day now. I'm so bad. But you know, I can sew like anything. I'm not boasting. I really can. And you could say I would be neglecting my gift....

Ahhh...don't you just love justification?

I will be stepping away from this computer for a few days (except to work). It really is starting to eat into my time, and I feel like an addict. Like I can't let any one know how much time I spend blogging. I have to just say no. I'll use my wind down time to sew (he, he, more justification)...catch up on my scrapbooks...heck, I may even find time to shave my legs.

Mom Wizard

Go check out this site and see what you would be paid for all of your mommy labor-if we were monetarily compensated. Click on 'Mom Wizard.' I don't know how it is figured, but it sure made me feel good. Even at the national low, I would be drawing in over 75K--almost three times what I make teaching full time.
I better get back to the dusting now. That is what they are paying me the big bucks for, after all. :0)

Camping Kicked My Hiney

It is Sunday morning and I am posting, because I am too sick to go to church. The oldest three kids and the master had a wonderful time tent camping. The fresh air, cooking over the campfire, and all around 'wilderness' living, suited them to a T. Marina, Randy and I tolerated it for exactly 24 hours, then we went to Grandma's house for microwaved food, bathtubs, and climate control. I had a terrible allergy attack just after arrival. My lungs have not been especially strong these past few weeks (don't know what is up with that) and drainage combined with the moist cool night air, sent me huffing and puffing on my inhaler around the clock. Randy never sleeps well away from his own little crib, and he kept the whole campsite awake with screaming every few hours. I would pick him up bring him into the bed with me, but then he would want to play and climb, and I would try to put him back down with some toys in the pack-and- play and that would keep him busy for two minutes, then he would cry and I couldn't let him cry it out because I felt like we were disturbing the entire park, so I would pick him up and try to nurse him...and it was just up, down, wheeze, scream, up, down, huff, puff, play....all night long. And the master, who is a bulwark of strength and highly capable in the day light, is never any help in the dark night hours.

master: groggy with sleep "Why don't you make him stop crying?"

Hmmm...good question there, honey. Why don't I just do that? It would make this evening so much more pleasant....

master: "I'm gonna thump his head, if he doesn't stop crying."

Oh, I'm sure that would quiet him quickly, cheer his little heart, and set him up for an entire night of deep sleep. No, no perhaps we should try another nursing and maybe some graham crackers with a side of baby Tylenol...it is hard to strategize when your oxygen intake is only at 75%. Huff, puff on the old proventil.

master: annoyed "Are you o.k.?"

So, he does get points for noticing that I was not the picture of health.

Marina, completely thrown out of her structured routine and carefully manipulated environment, went in to hyper-stasis. She could not sleep. Her whole body was tense and she couldn't relax for anything. It was midnight (we put her in her sleeping bag at 8:00) before she finally drifted off. They next morning she had fun, but with her lack of sleep (Marina needs a LOT of sleep to function), she was kind of spaced out and couldn't make eye contact. She couldn't relax in the tent for a nap, and by three o'clock she was a basket case. We were headed to Grandma's any way that evening to see the new nephew we had long since planned to visit, and I decided it would be best if we parted ways with the wilderness explorers. They are of heartier stock.

My night in the tent has left me with upper-respiratory infection (at least that is my diagnosis). I'm no PHD, but from a lifetime of sickly lungs, I can pretty much call it. It will take Marina several days to recover. I let her go to church and I'm just praying that she won't spit on any of the nursery workers. Randy is none the worse for wear, but is clearly not ready for "roughing it." The other four are reminiscing about sleeping under the stars, boating on the lake, and making sweet s'mores around the campfire; they can't wait for their next wilderness adventure.

"Promises" Kept

K and Abby have spring break this week. They have been making big plans since just after Christmas. Abby wanted a tea party. When she was four, I made the mistake of hosting a tea party for her and two of her friends. Ever since, I've had continuous requests for another. Promises of "someday" could only hold her for so long. "Someday" came today. Our tea time guests just departed. I got some really cute pics, but don't know how the other mommies would feel about their little girls photos being posted on the web, so you will just have to take my word for it; they were darling in tutus, tiaras, cupcake crumbs, and fairy wands. K has been wanting a tent camping experience for quite some time. We are reading Swiss Family Robinson, which sparked his interest for wilderness survival. He has added My Side of The Mountain and Hatchet to his library. I'm not sure how two nights in a Coleman at a state park are going to measure up to his imagination, but we'll give it a try. We'll be gone for the next three days. We have tent camped once before, when he was three, Abby was 18 months, and I was seven months pregnant. It was in the mountains of Colorado--when they were on fire. Not one of my fondest memories, to say the least.
My kids are starting to get really good at pinning down particulars for "someday" promises. I'm going to have come up with a new game plan, my stall tactic is no longer working....

The Amazing Transformation of One Miss Marina S_________

Suzi suggested that I post some progressive photos of Marina's most phenomel growth. I had considered this post before, but thought I might wait until some important marker--birthday, first meeting, adoption day--but lets do it now. You gotta strike while the iron is hot, I always say. My house is clean, the babies are well, and the laundry is done. Who knows when I'll get a better chance? The first picture is Marina a few weeks from coming home. Please do not think I am trashing her baby home. She was in a good orphanage, and I am confident in the care of the doctor there. We would love to go back to that orphanage again. I'm just telling you the facts. At her Dr. visit, she weighed in at 16 pounds. She was of average height (now that we see how tall she is, she was actually way under where she should have been) and below the 5th percentile in weight. Her doctor said she evidenced classic signs of starvation (which I thought was too harsh a word. 'Malnutrition' is what I would have said). That's why she was bald. She had not yet been fitted for her helmet. The second picture shows her just after last year's birthday in the polka-dotted dress from Nana. One year from adoption, she was in the 20% for weight and the 95% for height. The little bench she is sitting on, now comes to her knees. And the last picture is of her yesterday at Daddy's office. I can barely hold her any more. She is about to pass up her "big" brother. Still very skinny. She has a size 18 months waist and a size 4 inseam. I have a feeling her 3 year check-up will show her off the charts for height. If I could only take half of her endocrine and give it to Randy, neither one would be suffering!

A Visit To Daddy's Office

My kids love a visit to Daddy's office. He keeps a drawer in his desk full of little toys and the kids head straight for the goodies. The master had them in stitches yesterday with this rubber mouse. He would prompt the kids to ask the rat questions and DH would use his fingers to make it shake his head 'yes' or 'no.' Just look at Marina. Her smiles stretch farther than any body I know.

Oh, but it is nice to have these little pleasures again. The house is so quiet and peaceful. I probably wouldn't have described it as such two months ago, but now I am blissfully aware that my children are comparatively calm and pleasant.

St. Jude's Radio-A-Thon

Why, oh why do they have to put that on the air-waives? I can't see the road from crying. Talk about unsafe driving conditions. They ought to announce it on the morning news. "And in traffic, KMT 95.1 will be broadcasting the St. Jude's Pledge program--expect extreme loss of visibility..." I see the grown man next to me wiping his eyes on his shirt and I know he is listening to the same station I am. I gotta go hug my kids, blow my nose...

Taking Care of Me

I did it. I told the mom her child was miserable in my home. After three days of saying, "I'm going to do it today, I'm going to tell her today." I told her yesterday. She took it much better than I thought. She said she understood and that he was the same way at home (So, he doesn't just hate me). Her grandparents are going to keep him. They don't have anything else to do but sit around and hold him. If that is the case, I don't know why she was paying me in the first place. Today is his last day, and I'm just letting him decide his own schedule--which means no schedule. Mental health is just around the corner. I think my little venture into the home child care scene was an unprecedented failure, and I will not be trying it again.
I bought clothes. For myself. I don't do that very often. I bought maternity clothes last spring. Then in September, I bought two pairs of jeans and two tops. Directly following I joined Weight Watchers and lost 20 pounds. So that purchase was a complete waist (but I'm not complaining. I LOVE the fact that those jeans are now 2 sizes too big). But last week I purchased a whole new wardrobe (for me): two pairs blue jeans, two sets lounge/exercise wear, new tennis shoes, two tops, two pairs dress shoes, and three new Sunday dresses. You can actually find dresses in the stores right now. Some years you can't. But they really have a great selection out right now. I love the cuts, too. Very feminine. Go stock up on church clothes while you can.
I went to the dentist and had my teeth cleaned. My smile gleams.
I went to a salon and paid top dollar for a beautiful color job to cover last summer's dye-in-a-bottle cofafal. Gone are the calico cat orange patches and the mousy brown stripe right down the middle. I have a new respect for hair stylists. Any one that could fix my hair is a genius in my book.
My miserly soul is reeling from all this pampering, but I feel pretty, so pretty, and gay....