The Week After

This blog is meant, in part, to journal for my family. (It's also supposed to be informative, amusing and bombastic in turns but today it's a journal.) So here's what happened after the very dramatic entrance of CJ.

We stayed in the hospital for the better part of a week. My older kids got passed around quite a bit so Husband could work and save his paid time off for when I'd REALLY need help.

The recovery has been wickedly hard. Harder than an surgery I've had. I'm sure the two liters of blood loss didn't help. (Yes, two liters like a 2L soda pop bottle, two liters. It's a lot.)

We were ready to go home by Sunday afternoon, though. CJ had already regained her birth weight, or come awfully close, I can't remember now. That night we went to family dinner like usual, only this time, there were FIVE of us!

When we got home I noticed CJ's eye was pretty swollen. We called the nurse hotline and decided to watch it. At the 3am feed n' diaper change, it had gotten red and was leaking goopy goo.

Monday morning Husband dropped CJ and I at the doctors without an appointment (something they don't really love but what were they going to do?) and then he took the older kids to his sister-in-law's house for the day.
The doctor was pretty concerned, what with her only being 5 days old and all. He gave us a prescription and told us to come back that afternoon to have it looked at again.

So we went to Costco Pharmacy. I should have waited in the car but instead I wandered around the store with my new baby. When we went back to the doctor, he didn't think her eye was enough improved to watch at home over night so he sent us the children's hospital were CJ was admitted to the NICU for monitoring and IV antibiotics. She got two kinds of IV antibiotics and a topical antibiotic every few hours. The fear was that her eye would turn from periorbital cellulitis into orbital cellulitis or meningitis. We spent two days in NICU (which ended up being overkill of epic proportions) before FINALLY coming home.

My mom had arrived while I was annoying the NICU nurses with requests for discharge papers. She stayed a week and it was LOVELY. I laid around and slept and didn't do my hair and the dishes and laundry still got done and my children were clean and fed and played with. My mom is a marvel and we were so blessed to have her here.

Mom wasn't gone TWO DAYS before The Boy decided that he'd get himself into some powered cement. Now I don't know if you know this about powdered cement, but you really shouldn't put it in your eyes. The Boy wasn't aware of this, or even that it WAS powdered cement. He thought it was sand. Not that you should throw sand either, but my kids still haven't learned that lesson. Two showers and lots of screaming later, his eyes still looked horrid so we called poison control. Yeah. They weren't super thrilled with my kid, either.

After much discussion, we loaded The Boy and my nursling into Kate the Van and I drove to Phoenix Children's ER for evaluation. They washed his eyes out yet again, dyed them a funky orange color and diagnosed him with corneal scratches. Just that took over three hours. Yippee. The Boy was NOT thrilled with the process, even though he got an otter pop and a new toy car out of the deal. I just got another trip to Costco Pharmacy. Frankly, I'm super glad the lye in the cement didn't burn or permanently damage his eyes. Scratches on the cornea we can deal with.

That pretty much catches us up to now. I think everyone is healing or healed. It'll take a few months for me to build back my blood and feel 100%.

CJ has gained one pound one ounce and between one and three inches, depending on whose measurements you believe, since her birth.

I've lost probably close to 30 pounds since the birth and that, my friend, is reason enough for celebration. So I'm going to go break out the chocolate peanut butter ice cream and celebrate.

Frustrated and Driving Illegally

I am probably the most frustrated I've ever been in my entire life. More frustrated than when ISU told The Hubs that no, he couldn't really graduate because they'd added a couple requirements to his program without bothering to tell him, so he'd need to do yet another semester. More frustrated than when I came home too early from the hospital after The Boy was born and I couldn't sit up on my own or roll over or nurse or get my baby to stop crying or pee.

I have lots of reasons for being this frustrated, but the one I can share on Facebook is that my mail is delivered by Newman.

Remember him?

Yeah.

So I knew that our postman was complete idiot. That is why before our summer migration to Idaho, I drove to the post office, filled out the forward mail form and turned it in. I figured there was no way a guy with the same intelligence as a fence post could figure out what to do with that piece of paper. Oh, I was SO right.

While in Idaho, our bank called to say they got mail back. But by golly, I was getting my Martha Stewart magazine, so I figured the bank thing was just a fluke. It wasn't until we got home I found out my doctor tried to send us a bill. Twice. It got returned. Twice.
After getting that mess straightened out, I get a letter from the great state of Arizona saying they have no record of our car insurance, and if we don't get that cleared up, they'd suspend our license plates. That note came two days before the scheduled date for plate suspension. (NEWMAN!!!!!!!)

Of course the first person I call is my insurance agent. Guess what? They sent the renewal notice while we were gone. It never made it to Idaho.
They cancelled my insurance.
So I've been driving uninsured since mid JULY.
We drove the whole western United States, including the entire length of California COMPLETELY uninsured.
Oh, I'm livid.
Not only that, but it's been so long, our insurance company wants nothing to do with us. They won't backdate the policy. The only companies I can find that will insure us now want TWICE the premiums we were paying previously.
If it were legal to do so, I'd drive down to the post office and file a formal complaint. Alas, I can't go anywhere until this hot mess is straightened out.

I'm also a little ticked that what was supposed to be a year policy turned out to only be six months, despite what it says on the card in my glove box.

I'm gonna go eat some Nutella and Whipped Cream and fantasize about laying in wait for the postman with my imaginary shot gun.

Things I Learned This Week

• You're supposed to vacuum as many times in the week as you have people living in the house. Did y'all know this? WHY didn't someone tell me I'm only vacuuming HALF as much as I should be? I thought I was being all proactive getting out the Bissell twice a week. Pish. 
• My son can spell his name...and send texts and emails from my phone. This means people I haven't talked to in oh, forever, are getting text messages from me that say only The Boy's name.  

• Just because you CAN make a tutu without a pattern doesn't mean you SHOULD. Unless you want to do it over three or so times. Seriously, use a pattern. :D I will say it was super a lot more easy to do with my new sewing machine, courtesy of my mama. 
• Cooking three dinners in one night, day after day can get a little old, and your personal family may starve. 
• Job's Tears (croix beans) are good for colon cancer.

• If you let your kids read Dr Seuss, they are bound to Box with Socks. At least they weren't boxing foxes. 

Germicide, it's the new black

Dear People of East Mesa:

Please, please, please teach your children to wash their hands. We are midway through the third bout of stomach flu go-round since we moved back in January. Luckily my kids are pretty immune to this sort of thing, but I get it every.single.time. I wash. I bleach. I hold germ banishing pagan rights. Still, I come down with the Rocky Mountain Two Step every time it goes viral.

This never happened before we moved to the Ghetto. My children inherited their  iron tummies from momma, however mine has apparently rusted through.

Help a girl out? I simply can not spend this much time in bed! (or the bathroom)

In case you didn't know, here's how to properly wash up.

Note: Not that my four year old remembers to wash. But feel free to remind him. I'll return the favor.

The Secret Ingredient

Lately The Boy has been very interested nay, obsessed, with cooking. Any time I start a meal, he's right by my side, standing on a 5 gallon bucket eager to "help".  Mostly I welcome this chance to teach my son. I even let him stir hot things on the stove. (Really, don't call CPS. He's very careful and coordinated. I'd never let my other child stir hot things. She won't be allowed near a stove until she's 37.) My encouraging his budding cooking skills very nearly backfired tonight.

You see, I had some taco meat simmering on the stove. The Boy had helped me thus far with the adding of various things to the pan and the stirring thereof.
He lost interest and wondered off and so I left the pan unattended for a few minutes. I'm sure you can see where this is headed.

The Boy came to find me. He informed me of the addition of "the very best gredient". I was understandably concerned. My four year old had just used the word ingredient. Also, he'd added one to my perfect taco meat. Further questioning was required.
     "What kind of ingredient?"
           "Well, it's a SECRET!  And it's all stirred in." (ack)
     "OK. but I still need to know what it is. Can you tell me?"
           "No. I don't know the name of it."
     "Can you show me?"
          "Well....OK." (The Boy, looking dejected)
We then walked hand-in-hand to the kitchen where The Boy opened to the spice drawer. This might be a good time to point out another event I've been encouraging: The smelling of spices. Always under direct supervision, of course. Until now, apparently.
He reached in, and much to my (and The Hubs) relief, he pulled out garlic powder.
Dinner was not ruined, after all. It was a tad garlic-y, though.
Please excuse me while I check into the possibility of legally changing his name to Emeril.

Katydid Funeral

A while ago I wrote about our impromptu Katydid Funeral.

Here it is, in pictures.

Poor, poor dead Katydid

The pallbearers 

(As a side note, if you would like to tell The Hubs I need a new, non-broken camera go here)

Even the gravedigger is sad.

(side note dos: if you would like to tell The Hubs to get me some photography lessons ASAP, go here)

This is my favorite photo, but I'm not saying why. 

(Let's just say it's a shame The Hubs isn't wearing football pants.)

Visiting the Doctor 2.0

Since I've started subscribing to my friend Sandy's approach of only seeing the doctor if you have at least three things wrong with you, I've really saved a lot of money.
The thing is, if at least three things are wrong with you, one of them is pretty much guaranteed to be something that needs further attention.
So I finally had three things on my list. This is what it looked like.

1. Face rash for the last two or so months.
2. Low HDL levels. 
3. Check drawer reflex on repaired ankle.

     3.  Funny lump on my bum.

Let's take them in order.

1. It's a fungus. Seriously. I have MUSHROOMS growing on my face. Also, the cream I was putting it on it (prescription stuff for the kids' eczema) is the exact wrong thing to use. Oops. 
2. Who knows about this one. He's sending me to get my liver function checked, it's probably nothing. (Your liver is where you make "good" or HDL cholesterol)
3. This is the thing I'm least excited to talk about. Honestly, do you talk about YOUR bum on the internet? Yeah. I didn't think so. I may tell you about it later. I just can't right now. 

I wasn't even going to mention that last thing to the doctor, because hello. If you say something like that, they're going to want to LOOK at it. Doctors are funny that way. My mom looked it at last night, and she thought I ought to get it checked (isn't that what SHE was doing?), so I changed the third thing on my list. Now I have an appointment with a specialist for next week.

When my doctor told me I needed to "get that checked out", I knew JUST who to call. Dr. K. He took care of my dad.
I also knew I needed to make the appointment in person.
When I got there, the receptionist told me the doctor wasn't taking new patients.
I said, "That's nice. He'll see me."
She started to go through the riga-ma-roll about getting my info and having to ask the nurse yada yada
Guess who walked in right then?
Dr. K.
I asked about his kids, he asked me what a young(ish) healthy lady like me could be doing in his office.
I told him.
He got this soupy sad look in his eyes (everyone does when they think about my dad) and said of COURSE he'd take me as a patient (told you so) and so that's it.
I guess I'll let you know what he says Monday.

Backyard Camping

Ever since the fiasco that was taking-The-Boy-camping-when-he-was-just-over-a-year-and-I-was-hugely-pregnant-with-The-Baby-and-we-didn't-actually-sleep-because-The-Boy-didn't-sleep-and-it-rained-THE. ENTIRE. TIME. and-our-tent-nearly-floated-away-and-we-packed-up-and-left-at-2am-because-we-weren't-sleeping-anyway...

that time.

We've (read: I've) been scared of camping (with kids).
The Hubs took The Boy to a Fathers and Sons overnighter in May and he did alright (he LOVED peeing outside) but I'M still scared.
So instead of a full-fledged camping trip, we set up the tent in the backyard! It was great.
Setting up the tent was interesting. The tent is OLD. It came from my grandpa. It's at least 50 years old and I LOVE the way it smells. It smells like summer to me. I camped in this tent every year of my youth until Dad got too sick to tent-camp and we switched to hotels.

(It's kinda lop-sided)

The Baby thought it was great fun to lay on the tent while we were trying to get it to stand up. This could be why it's lop-sided.

We called some friends over to roast marshmallows and make s'mores. The Baby enjoyed sitting in the dirt-filled wagon we used for our fire.

The Boy roasting sugar...I mean marshmallows.

Doesn't she look like she's just entered a sugar coma?

The Hubs is SOOO Handsome

(Me, trying to work marshmallows out of my teeth while The Hubs had the camera)

Then we snuggled up in the tent (after a VERY good tooth scrubbing) to watch Dr. Who on the laptop courtesy of Netflix.

A GREAT night, other than the part where we actually had to sleep in the tent.

Teaching Tithing

If you take a peak at Facebook on occasion, you know we've had trouble keeping our eldest in bed at night. A marvelous friend gave us:

The Penny Suggestion 

Place two pennies outside the door. Each time he comes out, he looses a penny. 

Well, The Boy is no dummy and he caught on pretty quickly. He's also smart enough to make sure we put out pennies every night. 

We had a bit of trouble getting him to keep track of his pennies. A hole in the lid of the jar and the lesson that money can buy things seemed to fix the problem.
Last week we let him "buy" a date at the movies for ten pennies. He's already got more than 10 pennies this week and he wants to go buy a hot dog (not just ANY hot dog, but the kind that come on a stick).

Now that he's figured out money buys things he wants, I figure it's a great time to teach about tithing.
The Hubs and I are big fans of the Law of The Tithe, what with it's accompanying blessings and all. :D

I found three ideas on line which I think I'll incorporate along with the whys and hows of tithing throughout the coming week. In addition, we're going to go over splitting our money up into "tithe" "save" and "spend".

I wonder if any of you have some suggestions for me? Because this is the first time we're teaching a new principle, I'd like to do it right!