He Doesn't Listen

Liam has not been listening to me.

I keep telling him to stop growing up.

He laughs and does it anyway.

For instance, just last week, he moved from glasses to contacts.
And he immediately looked two years older.

At 7 1/2, he's quite young to be in contacts, but his vision has come a loooong way in 3 1/2 years. At the age of 4, we discovered that he was legally blind in his left eye due to amblyopia. Since then, we have worked tirelessly to get his eyes to work as a team. He's now seeing 20/25 with correction, which is almost unheard of for the severity of his condition. As a result of such a huge success, our doctor believes that a contact on his left eye is the best way to hold his vision at such a healthy stage.

The downside...he looks almost ten. The upside...I get to see his good-lookin' eyes.

Liam, are you listening to me? Stop that growing up, young man! Just stop it now!

Big Brother vs. Little Brother

What happens when big brother and little brother have a couch-cushion fight?

In today's case, the big brother loses a tooth.
Thanks, little brother.

Daddy says little brother gets half the payment, so little brother definitely wins.

And, yes, Liam is still home and in pj's. Garrett shared his cold with his big brother over the weekend. Since Liam is asthmatic and recovering from surgery, this cold has hit him hard and requiring lots of breathing treatments, so he's home all of this week.

This means we're going on TWO weeks of recuperating at home. To say that we're a little stir crazy is an understatement, which probably explains the cushion fight, too.

Torture

Last Friday, I signed the dotted line that said, "Yes, I agree to allowing your doctors and nurses to torture my child while under anaesthesia, and then I'll take him home to deal with the aftermath." In other words, I signed Liam up for a surgery in which his tonsils and adenoids were removed, and his turbinates were coblated.

(Brownie points to anyone who can explain that last procedure without WebMD or any other internet tool.)

Liam was born with tonsils and adenoids large enough for a young elephant, if elephants have such anatomy. If not, then let's just say that his breathing has been very limited since he was quite young. Doctors had told me to wait and see if he would grow into them, but he certainly did not. Instead, his tonsils and adenoids continued to grow to the point that removal was necessary.

Here he is before the surgery:
He's on the giggly juice, which didn't make him any sillier than usual. He was very sleepy and couldn't lift his head off the bed or form any coherent words.

And after surgery, he was pitiful! He moaned in his sleep. It took me all of 0.2 seconds to start crying crocodile tears over him in his recovery bed. And he cried every time he awakened.
This picture was taken after THREE doses of morphine. It took all three doses to get him to stop crying and to suck on ice chips. And then he asked to play a game on Daddy's phone.

His recovery has taken us on a roller coaster ride. Some days are pretty smooth, and we're even able to go outside. Other days, I watch the clock to know when I can give him another round of pain meds.

On the first night, he whispered, "Mommy, am I dying?" Be still, my heart! "No, baby, you're not dying. I know you're miserable, but we just have to get through this recovery and you'll be so much better."

He's home all of this week per the doctor's orders. Lots of ice cream, juice, and video games.
He's such a trooper. In spite of the pain, he has still smiled every day.
As for his little brothers, they are their typical, busy selves. They fought so much yesterday that I sent them to their beds. Perhaps fatigue was part of the problem, since I found Garrett asleep.
How do you like those black socks with football pants and tennis shoes? Such style.

Jack didn't fall asleep that particular time. He has spent a lot of this week in his own little world. In fact, he was singing the National Anthem to his dinosaurs this morning.
Tomorrow I think we'll try to conquer some of Liam's homework, which includes writing a fractured fairy tale. Writing assignments are not my idea of a fun time, no matter the topic. There's a reason I taught math and science, people. I may need to sample Liam's pain meds while I torture myself in assisting him with his writing.

He's Home!

Rick was released from the hospital just before lunch yesterday. Hallelujah!

And to celebrate the fact that this heart attack did not damage his heart one bit, nor do his arteries show any sign of blockage, we ate TexMex for lunch.

As the two of us ate that artery-clogging meal, we stared at each other and smiled through happy tears, because we realize that God could have chosen a completely different outcome.

My husband could be in heaven right now. That would be unequivocally wonderful for him but heart breaking for the boys and me. As a result, we praise the Lord for choosing to spare Rick's life, and we've learned to be grateful for each new day, because we're never guaranteed another.

The night before he was released, I took the boys and the camera to see Daddy. We laughed over America's Funniest Videos, because it felt so good to laugh as a family of five.
Just before saying good night, each boy climbed into bed to get some lovin'. Naturally, I had them each pose for a photo. What's a major life event without some pictures?

Gig 'em, Daddy and G.

Jack was just a wee bit tempted to push all the buttons on the bed. "I'm just looking, Daddy. I'm not gonna' push anyfing." Yea, right.

The Nut had to make a goofy face, of course.

Now that this post is completely out of order anyway, I have to tell you about our first night after bringing Daddy home. Rick couldn't climb the stairs last night, so I got each boy ready for bed and then sent them back downstairs to tell Daddy good night. By the time I tucked each boy into bed, Liam was emotional. I asked him what was bothering him, and he sputtered, "I don't want Daddy to die."

Me either.

I loved on my boy and reminded him that Daddy was okay. It took him quite a while to calm down, because a bit of his innocence was lost as a result of Rick's heart attack. He's old enough to know that Daddy won't live forever and that God determines our number of days. But he's too young to understand that should God choose to take Daddy home tomorrow, we would be okay. Yes, it would hurt, but we would make it with our Father's help.

My mind must still be caught in a hospital haze, because my thoughts are all jumbled and so is this post. As I mentioned in the beginning of this post, Rick's heart shows no damage, and his arteries are clear. The cardiologist said, "Rick, it's as if you never had a heart attack, but you did have a heart attack." Elevated enzymes proved that fact.

The doctor said that we may never know the cause of this heart attack. One of the possibilities is that his gardening just minutes before the attack could have triggered an allergic reaction that caused a spasm in his heart. We'll never know for certain.

But what we do know is that he's alive and well today.

That Guy *UPDATED*

That guy that I married ten years ago.... That guy that I love very much.... That guy that's my best friend.... That guy that helps me raise three little men....

That guy had a heart attack Friday night.

Gulp.

Thankfully, it was a mild attack. Thankfully, the Lord kept pushing me to ask Rick if he thought he was having a heart attack that evening, when he complained of a weighted feeling on his chest. Thankfully, that guy didn't blow it off. Thankfully, that guy's dad is a doctor, and within 30 seconds on the phone with Rick, he told us to go the ER. Thankfully, we wound up at a hospital with a heart center.

Yep, my guy is now a heart patient. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around that idea.

He is in the hospital on a blood thinner and a beta blocker. He was pretty miserable yesterday with headaches and nausea, but he sounds much better this morning.

He will have an angiogram on Monday to check for blockage. If the blockage is cleared up, he will come home Monday. If the angiogram shows stubborn blockage, then a stint will be put in place at that time and he will come home Tuesday.

I am a worrier by nature. Normally, I'll worry over the slightest concern, even as something as simple as clipping the boys' nails. "Oh dear, I need to cut the boys' nails. When am I going to fit that in?" I'll then wring my hands for 2 minutes before I realize that those 2 minutes could have been spent cutting one hand of nails. I'm really not kidding. It's ridiculous the things I worry about.

But through this entire ordeal with my guy, I have not been worried. I know that it's the Lord's hand upon me that is keeping me calm. God is sovereign and in control. He knew about this heart attack long before we did, so I praise Him for showing us the signs when He did. And I thank Him that my guy's heart attack was mild. And I thank Him for a new day with my husband.

Rick is only 37 and in pretty good health. His dad thinks this heart attack was brought on by over exertion in the gym this past week. I can agree with that, but perhaps it's from his military approach on Mt. Elbert last weekend? Or perhaps it's because he'll be 38 next week?

Better yet, it's because the Lord allowed it and will use it for His purposes.

*UPDATED* Rick's heart cath has already taken place this morning (Monday). There was no blockage, and that is wonderful news! He will have to lie still on his back for 4-6 hours to prevent bleeding from the point of entry in his groin. The dr said that we will talk about more details later in the day, but Rick will more than likely be on heart meds for a while. He will also probably have to spend one more night in the hospital. That's alright. We'll do whatever they tell us is best. Thank you for your prayers and concerns.

It's a Crazy Life, But It's Our Life

We traded one child for another. Got tired of Liam and found someone who was tired of their boy, so we opted to switch.

Just kidding! Liam is on vacation with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. In turn, we have their 11 month old, Hudson.

I miss my big boy already, and it's only been 24 hours. But we're staying busy with Hudweiser and enjoying having a little spitfire to chase.

Would you please pray for my hubby? Rick is in the ER this morning with excruciating back/shoulder/arm pain. His dad, the orthopedist, said he needed to go to the hospital, so my mother-in-law took him.

If I'm not in the blogging world much this week, you know why...a toddler to chase and a husband to nurse.

I'm Wondering...

Does the hour on the elliptical this afternoon counter the chocolate & peanut butter cups ice cream tonight?

Dear John

Dear John, I mean Mr. Pollen,

I simply cannot carry on this way any longer. You have caused many a sleepless night with the running water faucet from the left nostril and the stuffed cotton ball on the right. You have turned my throat into ground chuck. You have caused me to eat Ricola throat drops as if they are Skittles. Because of you, I cannot step foot outdoors and you have caused my eldest child to be on an Albuterol high 24/7.

You claim that Zyrtec would be our happy pill, but it's just not cutting the butter. You make me want to gouge out my eyeballs, cut off my nose, and scratch my throat with a stick. I've contemplated moving into an oxygen chamber, but it will cost you greatly.

I see no other way than to say good bye.

Goodbye, John Pollen.

Jack, the Patient and the Clown

Jack's surgery and the first 36 hours of recovery went remarkably well. When the doctor reported to me in the waiting room that his tonsils were too big for his throat, his adenoids red with constant infection, and his ears in need of those tubes due to "thick goop" (her official doctor term), I was mighty glad that I signed him up for the torture.

Saturday night through Monday night were rough. He felt puny and forcing liquids down him was a full-time job, especially yesterday. But today does seem better. He's willingly drank most of the morning, and he's tried to keep up with his brothers in at least a half-hearted way.

He hasn't felt like joking much in the last few days, but a few days prior to surgery, he cracked me up with a comment.

Setting: The boys and I were playing in the backyard. Liam was helping Garrett learn a "new trick" on the swings, and Jack was sliding at rocket speed. Here is the conversation that took place....

Me: Liam, I really like how you're playing so nicely and helping Garrett.
Liam: I'm doing a good job?
Me: Yes, you are. I'm pleased.
Liam: I'm babysitting?
Me: [giggling] Well, I don't know that you're babysitting yet, but you're being a good big brother.
Jack: You're not babysitting! You're MANsitting!

I laughed so hard that I literally tripped over my own feet.

Takin' Care of Business

Today is one of those days in which I wonder what possessed me to break my Diet Coke habit two months ago. In fact, forget Diet Coke. I need me a Dr Pepper! And not the diet version.

I decided last night that Garrett's temper tantrums have got to stop. His fits have never gone acceptable to us, but we have not been as consistent as we need to be. As I went to bed last night, I decided today was the day to catch every. single. fit.

By 11:30 this morning, he and I were both worn out with the process. He asked to go to bed at that point. I fed him lunch and put him to bed.

I'm not sure if it's making an impact on him yet. But I sure hope so.

As for me, nothing would soothe me more right now than to hear the pop and fizz associated with a newly opened can of Dr Pepper. That's not true. Nothing would soothe me more than to hear the pop and fizz, only to be followed by the ice cold deliciousness flowing down my throat.

But there aren't any yummy beverages in the house. Whose idea was it to stop buying that stuff?

In other news, my brother has designed a new header for my blog. Yippee! I'm ready to have a little somethin' up there. As we put the new header in place and mess with some details, my blog may be a little goofy. Please pardon the mess.

In some other news, could I also ask you to say a prayer for Jack (3)? He is having surgery tomorrow morning to remove his tonsils and adenoids and to receive new ear tubes. Poor little guy.

Please excuse me while I take care of a fit-throwing three year old, a sickly three year-old, an active 4 1/2 year old, and a boring blog. And I might be sipping a DP if it gets much worse.

Bustling Boys

I have spent two days in two different pediatric specialists' offices with Garrett over the past two weeks. These two visits have been eye-openers for me.

When I walked into these offices, I was faced with children with special needs. Families faced with severe medical needs. Children who are unable to walk, talk, play, or eat without assistance.

And there I sat with my three healthy boys. I felt uncomfortable. Not because I don't "deserve" to be there, but because I don't "deserve" healthy children.

I am humbled. I am not naive enough to think that there are not millions of sick or hurt kids in this world. But I was forced to face them and their parents recently.

May I never take another day with my bustling boys for granted.

No Entrace without Proper Attire

The pediatrician's office finally wised up and began supplying bottles of hand sanitizer in every room. But after seeing two kids vomit and hearing three barking seals in the waiting room, I think doctors' offices should supply every child and adult with face masks.

No shoes, no shirt, no face mask...no service.

And we were only there for well-child check-ups. I'm all about spreading the wealth, not the germs.

How YOU Doin'?

How are you doing on your New Year's Resolutions? Me? I am happy to report that I'm stickin' with them.

But if you believe that, then I have beach-front property to sell you.

I set out to eat better and exercise more this year. I did well for maybe two weeks. Here it is January 28th, and I'm already failing.

I stepped on the scale yesterday. Yikes!

And then I had a nightmare last night. In my nightmare, I was sporting a chunky body in a swimsuit on the beach in May.

Wait, that wasn't a nightmare. That was foreshadowing.

I will be wearing a swimsuit in May in Destin, Florida. If that isn't motivation, I don't know what is. If I don't get busy, I will be sporting a chunky body in a swimsuit.

So I've pulled out my Weight Watchers book today. I'm going to be counting points again. I lost 17 pounds on WW nearly 3 years ago, so I know I can do it. Thankfully, I don't need to lose that much this time around, maybe 10 pounds.

Why am I blogging about this? Because I want you to hold me accountable. No, actually I do not. I will throw darts at you if you ask me how I'm doing with my points!

But misery loves company, so I want to know who else is already struggling to follow through with resolutions? Is anyone else out there needing some motivation? If so, leave me a comment.

And if you are interested in that beach-front property, you can leave me a comment with your bank account info.

Resolutions

When January 1 rolled around, I made one resolution...to spend as much time in as many doctors' offices as possible. This is one resolution we're doing a darn good job of keeping.

Today was the eighth doctor's visit in three weeks. I'm thinking Rick needs to go back to school to become a doctor. Then, he could peek in the kids' ears and throats to diagnose infections and save us some money and time.

When I call the pediatrician's office for a sick visit, I feel like saying, "Go ahead and take 1/2 of my day away. Really, we have nothing better to do today."

Maybe next year I should resolve to spend more time in Cancun!

Bye Bye, Fingers

(The older child looking over my shoulder is Rick's cousin. I didn't want you to think there's an older son that I've never told you about. And, yes, I'm wiping my nose. I was holding my very own baby for the first time ever! If you can get past all of that, then you'll see that Liam is sucking his fingers.)

The moment I first laid my eyes on Liam, he was sucking his fingers. He has sucked the middle and ring fingers on his right hand ever since. While he was a baby, it was cute and convenient.

Knowing that it wouldn't be such a cute habit forever, I only allowed him to suck his fingers at bedtime, once he was about a year old.

Now that he's 4 1/2, the dentist wants this habit to stop altogether. Liam's future orthodontist might as well begin building his beach home in Tahiti. You're welcome, sir.
The large space between Liam's front teeth were inherited from his birth mom. But his cross bite and under bite are thanks to his fingers.

We have been talking to Liam about stopping this habit since October, and he really wants to quit. Recently, he has done well with falling asleep without his beloved fingers, but we still find them in his mouth during his deeper sleep.

Following the dentist's orders, we'll begin using this tonight:
I'm expecting some tears and some bad dreams. I don't think this will be a good week to drop my morning Diet Coke. Wish us well!

The Little Giant

I took Jack (2 1/2) grocery shopping with me the other night. Daddy is convinced that grocery shopping is great one-on-one time for the boys to enjoy with me. I am not so convinced after I hear, "Mommy will you buy this for me?" two hundred fifty-nine times, all the while pushing a two-ton cart.

Here is the conversation that took place on our way home with the groceries:
Jack: Mommy, I am bigger than Liam and Lucy (his 7 year-old cousin)?
Me: No, baby, you're smaller.
J: No, I am not a baby anymore. I'm a big boy! I'm getting bigger and bigger.
M: Yes, you're getting bigger, but Liam and Lucy are still older and bigger.
J: No, I'm bigger. I'm a GIANT! [enter evil laugh]
M: You're funny!
J: [still laughing] You will tell Daddy that one? I'm funny!
M: Yep, I'll tell Daddy that funny one.

The Little Giant could use some prayers. I took him to the doctor this morning, after he woke up with colorful congestion and a slight fever. He was diagnosed with an ear infection, sinus infection, and strep throat. Poor kid!

Injured Reserves

Did you watch the Cowboys beat the Packers last night? The Cowboys are now 11-1, woo hoo!

Honestly, I'm a fair-weather fan with the Cowboys. If they're winning, I'm proud. If they're not, then who cares?

As I watched Brett Favre get sidelined with an injury last night, I thought of an incident in my home earlier in the week.

I noticed that Jackson had been in the bathroom a little longer than necessary to take care of his business, so I snuck up on him to find him admiring his elbow in the mirror. Upon his elbow is a week-old scab received after taking a nasty spill at the park.
Incidentally, he had no problem holding this pose while I ran for the camera.

Then, he wanted to show the camera an up-close and personal view. Is that face pitiful or what?

After I took the pictures, I said, "Okay, wash your hands, and join us in the living room for book time." To which he replied, "No, I can't read books with my 'nelbow'. It hurts."

I guess he and Brett can watch life from the sidelines while they heal.

Who Knew?

Hi. My name is Ami, and I'm addicted. Addicted to lip balm. Carmex to be exact. But Chap Stick will do in a pinch.

Living in Texas humidity for the first 22 years of my life, there wasn't a need for lip balm, unless I had a cold requiring me to take every breath through my mouth. I moved to Colorado after I finished college, and that is when I began to spiral down the long, dark tunnel of lip balm addiction. Colorado air is so dry that it sucked every ounce of moisture from my body, beginning with my lips. Within 24 hours of living in Colorado, I realized that I could not live without applying a greasy tube of relief to my lips at least every hour. On the hour. Seriously, I bought one of those Chap Stick key holder dealies so that my Chap Stick could always be found.

Fast forward ten years, and I'm still addicted, even though I've returned to the land of humidity. I have cut myself back to maybe three applications per day, but I still have one tube in the car, one in the bathroom, one in my nightstand drawer, one in my purse, one in the diaper bag, three in the kitchen junk drawer, and one upstairs in the boys' bathroom. Truly. I never wonder where or when I can get my next fix. What's even worse is that Garrett asks for "chack stick" every time he sees me applying it.

But I haven't been ready to admit that I have a problem until today.

Today, I saw an article on Yahoo about a website for those afflicted with this addiction. (Now, here's a warning about this website: it's often sarcastic and contains some foul language. But if you need to see for yourself, here is the link for Lip Balm Anonymous.) Did you know such a site existed?

LBA makes me think that I really need to join a twelve-step program and cut lip balm out of my life. Are you addicted? The first step is to admit it!

The Patient

Garrett made it through surgery yesterday without any problems. Thanks for thinking about him!

He was actually inerested in eating a little bit last night, but he insisted on wearing his sunglasses during the process. Whatever you want, my child, so long as you eat.
He is pretty fussy today. He's pretty much refusing to swallow his own saliva, so this is proving to be a difficult day. When he sees me coming towards him with a drink, he starts hitting me. Isn't he sweet? I'm being patient, because I know he's miserable, but I am concerned about keeping him hydrated.

He refused to let me hold him this morning, even though I knew that he would fall asleep if he would just let me rock him for a few minutes. This is how I found him a few minutes later:

He's standing at the couch, leaning over with his blanket, and sleeping to the point of snoring! I picked him up and put him to bed for a two-hour nap.

My mom is here so that I can try to nap, so I better pull myself away from the computer. Talk to you later.

D-Day for Garrett

For the last couple of days, I've found myself telling Garrett "I love you" more often than usual. You know, something like 200 times instead of 150. And when I tell him of my love, I silently add, "And I'm sorry for what your about to go through." Why? Because I know that tomorrow is Doom's Day for him, the day in which he will undergo a tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy. Thankfully, he doesn't have any idea what is about to happen to him. But I sure as heck do, and I hurt for him when I think about the recovery process.

He has snored since he was very young, and I really thought nothing of it, until we began to notice that he was also suffering from sleep apnea. Because it's slightly important to breathe continually throughout the night, his ENT wants to remove his extra large tonsils and adenoids. We're also hoping that perhaps his eating will improve, after the recovery, once his throat has more room for the large adult-sized bites that he insists on forcing down his throat.

Anyway, I remember the excruciating pain from my own tonsillectomy as an eight year-old. I remember my mom telling me, "Ami, you have to start swallowing your saliva. You will never get better if you don't start swallowing." And I remember thinking, "WHAT?! You want me to swallow my spit?! It may seem simple to you, but swallowing my spit feels like swallowing a bucket of nails!" That is why I hurt for my baby Garrett.

And so, I ask that you please say a prayer or two for him. The surgery itself is tomorrow at 8 am CST and should be short and simple. The recovery process is what I'm dreading. He will be on liquids for the first 24 hours, and I can slowly add soft "solids" thereafter. He is to avoid rough play for a week. No spicy, acidic, or rough foods for 3 weeks. Please pray for much less pain than I am anticipating for him, and please pray that he will have a strong desire to drink in order to avoid dehydration. And you can pray for my sanity, if you like. Thanks!