Super at Seven Months

Another month has passed.  One crazy month to say the least.  And through it all, Newbie O has proven that she really is the happiest, easy going baby I have ever known.  Newbie O was there for it all.  Surgery, emergency surgery, commuting back and forth to the hospital, spending time in lots of unfamiliar places.  She did great and had a smile on her face the whole way through.  Where she gets it from is beyond me.  Certainly not from Mom and Dad.  A lot of things can be said about Mommy and Daddy O, but easy going is not one of them.

Newbie O is what I like to call petite-at six months she was just over 12 pounds-nothing to worry about but I am happy to report that at seven months she has gained over two pounds!  She loves food.  In fact, it is about the only area she isn't easy going about.  Food cannot be shoveled into her mouth fast enough at meal times.  I cannot walk away from the table even to get a napkin or her fussing will begin.  We also decided to skip the bottle and go straight to a sippy cup.  She has figured out how to suck on it and get some liquid out, but she hasn't had that aha! moment where she actually wants to drink.  It's still more of plaything.

She is sitting up better and better everyday.  She has a much sturdier stance and doesn't topple over as much.  She's getting close to sitting on her own-the other day I placed her down on her stomach and when I came by a moment later, she was sitting.  I think her big brother had something to do with that, but he still won't admit to it.  Although she still likes to roll around, she has transitioned to getting up on her hands and knees and rocking back and forth.  It won't be long before she takes off.  I'm hoping she's not as curious as Baby O was.  I've been spoiled living everyday life without the child proof toilet, oven, cabinet, and door knob locks.

Photo sessions are getting more difficult.  She doesn't want to be dressed up like a doll any more and also does not cooperate with posing.  She would much rather eat the sticker and then cry about it when I take it away.  I usually get about 50 pictures in and have a bunch to choose from.  This photo session granted me a total of five photographs and I was lucky that two turned out to be good and one had the 7 month sticker on her dress (before she ripped and devoured it).

Cute as a button and we move on to another month of milestones...

The Rabbit Hole, Redefined.

I may have thought that a simple outpatient surgery was going down the rabbit hole.  I may have thought it was stressful and I know I most certainly thought I was unprepared for seeing my son in a surgical gown hugging his favorite stuffed animal, not fully understanding what was in store for him.

I wasn't wrong.  It was stressful.  It was difficult.  It was not an experience I would like to do over.

But here we are again.  And it just does not get easier.  I am struck by the fact that no matter how many times you experience your child being wheeled into the operating room, the sense of powerlessness that overcomes you never goes away.

Baby O had a very simple, short outpatient surgery on his hand for an issue that is not all that uncommon in children.  It was a relatively positive experience-everything went according to plan, he did not have much pain and the whole ordeal was over by mid-afternoon.  He was on the mend.

Five days post surgery, I noticed some redness and swelling around the incision and stitches.  I made a call to the surgeon's office and we went in that very day to have someone look at it.  They seemed to think it was a reaction to the dissolvable sutures, prescribed some antibiotics and sent us home.    I was more than satisfied and expected the pain he was having to subside by the end of the day.  By late afternoon, things seemed to be worse.   I called the surgeon's nurse.  I called our pediatrician.  They both had the same response.  Wait at least 24 hours for the antibiotics to work.  Their answer appeased me for a bit and I waited until morning.

After a difficult night, Baby O would scream in pain if something even remotely brushed his hand.  The swelling and redness had now spread up his arm and I was worried.  I waited until 8 o'clock that next morning to call the surgeon's office once more only to get the same answer as before-wait.  Wait 24 hours.

I couldn't do it.  I called again.  And again.  Finally, I asked for an e-mail address so I could send pictures of his hand.  Within ten minutes of clicking on 'send', I got a call,  "The doctor would like to examine your son's hand.  Can you be here in 20 minutes?"

I admit to feeling vindicated, right and had an I told you so chip on my shoulder from the moment we walked into that examination room.  I felt I had won the battle and fully expected to receive a different antibiotic.

But once again, I was unprepared.  Just plain unprepared to hear that the infection was bad enough to need surgery as soon as possible.  Chip on my shoulder gone, the wind knocked out of us both, Daddy O and I went through the motions and did what had to be done.

I have never felt so adult in all my life. There is nothing fun about checking into a hospital and putting on a happy face while your insides are churning.  There is nothing fun about trying to explain to a three year old what is about to happen.  There were times when I didn't know if I was making the right decision or not and in hindsight would do some things differently, but I just didn't know.

Baby O's first day and night were difficult.  He has never been the type to do anything half way and fought the nursing staff every bit of the way.  It took two separate armies of hospital staff to get an IV in his arm.  The first attempt was a disaster and left him and myself in tears.  The second attempt was ultimately successful, but equally as traumatic.

The surgery went well and the doctor tended to the full extent of his infection. It was quite extensive but had been caught in time and had not spread to the bone or ligament where the initial surgery had been.  Although
things were looking up, Baby O would need to return to the OR each day to clean out the incisions that had been made to drain the infection.

In our wildest dreams, we never imagined this would be anything more than a few days, but a few days turned into ten full days in the hospital.  Daddy O and I split duties, him staying with Baby O most of the time and me commuting back and forth.

Day 2-Waiting to go back into the OR.  

Day 2-Getting ready to be wheeled into the 'big room'.

Day 2-Daddy O and Newbie O passing the time during surgery.

By day three, commuting got the best of me and Boy O, Newbie O and myself were able to stay in the Ronald McDonald House just across the parking lot for a few days.  It was wonderful to be able to stay at the hospital for longer periods of time and take that walk across the parking lot at the end of the day instead of driving through traffic and spending an hour and a half in the car.

I didn't take any pictures that weekend, just making sure the kids were happy, had regular meals and were somewhat entertained took all of our energy and time.  But I will say this about our brief stay at the Ronald McDonald House:  It was a truly wonderful thing.  After trying to keep things as normal and routine as possible for Boy O for a few days, I realized that it wasn't necessarily the daily routine that kept things going.  The glue that keeps things normal for us is us.  We really needed to be our unit again and it just wasn't working driving there and back each day. The Ronald McDonald House was how we were able to keep our family together during this crazy time.  Words cannot express how grateful I am that a place such as this exists for families that live more than 25 miles away from the hospital.

DAY 6-This is a children's hospital and there are quite a few things around to entertain the kiddos.  In addition to library, play room and boatloads of child life specialists at our beck and call, the 'ball thing' (as the kids referred to it)-was a great way to pass the time.

DAY 7-The bandage is getting smaller, fingers are no longer swollen and he even has a new splint to protect his thumb.  He's also looking mighty sharp out of his hospital scrubs.

DAY 8-This is the day I took over for Daddy O and spent the night with Baby O and Newbie O.  We were so lucky-the child life specialists visited Baby O every day to play with him.  This was the day they brought in a painting project for him to do.  Not the best idea in my opinion for a kid who needed to keep his bandage clean, but he sure had fun.

This is the picture I took right before bedtime.  Newbie O got the pack-n-play, I got the pull out couch and Baby O got the roomy hospital bed.  I was pleasantly surprised that both of them slept quite well with all the vital checks, antibiotics and pain relievers given at 11 pm and 3 am....oh and the person who came in at 10:30 pm to empty the garbage.  That one kind of puzzled me.

Day 10-Waiting for the paperwork to be released.  Baby O was so spoiled.  The child life specialist left her Ipad in the room for him to play with.  Poor girl,  in addition to playing games, he managed to take several pictures of himself and override the language to Japanese.

And finally....out of the double doors and heading home.

I would not wish this experience on anyone.  Ten days of seeing our baby go through hell.  Ten days of walking around like a zombie, ten days of putting our trust in the doctors and nurses to take care of our son, ten days of the most terrifying emotional roller coaster ride I have ever been on.

I have however come away from this ordeal with quite a bit of clarity.  I feel lucky, fortunate and ever so grateful on a daily basis.  I have renewed appreciation for everything that I have.  I feel silly that I ever felt down in the postpartem dumps...silly that I complained about not having time for myself, silly that I complained about my lack of sleep and silly in general because after seeing parents carrying around their precious child whose head had been shaved only to reveal the stitches from ear to ear, I realized that their journey was nowhere near over and it would be a long time before they would ever walk away from the hospital.  I can only begin to imagine what they must be going through.

I will say it over again, but the kindness and generosity from complete strangers astounded me.  I met so many volunteers who spent their time making meals at the Ronald McDonald house, people who brought their dogs into the hospital so children could pet them (they brought smiles to all of their faces), even an older gentleman who spent his free time making and delivering get well cards to young patients from his wheel chair.  It all makes a difference.  They make a difference.  And it isn't small.  And I will remember it and pay it forward every chance I get.

Through the Rabbit Hole and Back Again

We have known for awhile.  We thought we were prepared.  But when you get there and see your child hug his Mr. Lamb and sit waiting to go into surgery, you realize that nothing, absolutely nothing can prepare you for the moment the nurses wheel your baby away from you through those double swinging doors.  It does not prepare you for the moment when your baby asks you why you can't come with him.  It does not prepare you to hold back your tears and feelings of absolute fear from your son when you tell him to listen to the nurses and doctors and that you will see him very soon.

Fortunately, there are moments of humor amidst the seriousness of the situation.  In the seemingly endless sixty minutes before the patients go into the operating room, our little man of steel was a fantastic trooper.  He was hungry, thirsty and in great need of a nap, but he sure did make the most out of a mask with vanilla cake flavor on it.  Personally I thought our little nook of the pre-op area smelled like a stinky rendition of one of those holiday body shower flavors at Bath and Body Works, but Baby O seemed to like it.

His choices of gas flavors were grape, strawberry, bubble gum or birthday cake.  He chose birthday cake.  In his mind, he thought they were asking him what he wanted when he went through those doors and having had not one bite to eat in the last 8 hours or so, he was fully expecting an actual birthday cake.

He came through like a champ, but was an absolute bear when he woke up and the birthday cake was not there.  He did however settle for a rainbow Popsicle and a sticker.

Although pretty disoriented and out of it for a few hours, the next day he was back to normal and obviously recovering well.

We are relieved and thankful.  Relieved because the build-up seemed extreme. I really thought we would never make it to the day of surgery.  Despite becoming a complete germophobe of a Mother for about a month, (no play dates, no jumpy place, just good old fun outdoors, right?), in the 6-8 weeks before, he weathered three colds, an infected lip (from a cut in a fall off his bike), an apparent allergic reaction what we believe was a poisonous plant (when he deconstructed the plant and touched his infected lip), and a black and swollen eye (from a tumble off his scooter) just a couple of days before hand.  After the last incident I decided that movie marathons were the only safe activity.

Now it's about recovery and movie marathons really are the only way to keep him from playing in the dirt or falling off his bike etc...Just a few more days of yet another viewing of Madagascar and Toy Story and he will be as good as new.  So thankful it went well and hopeful that this will be our only and last experience  visiting the surgeon's wing of the hospital.  Frankly, I don't think I'm cut out for it (pun not intended).

Smiles-A-Lot

If you are a fan of Dances With Wolves, you'll understand the title.  Nothing seems to get her down.  For a girl who still doesn't sleep through the night (not even barely) and only naps 50 percent of the time, she sure is happy. All the time.  I guess I can't ask for more than that, but I sure would like some down time during the day or some sleep at night.

Secrets to her priceless facial expressions during photo shoots?  Jumping up and down with the camera and her older brother doing the same.  Works every time.

These stickers never last long.  In the past she has spit-up on them almost from the very moment I stick them on her onesie.  No spit-up this time, but she did attempt to eat it.

So much has changed in the course of a month.  She grabs EVERYTHING now.  I definitely have to be aware of what toys are around her.  She immediately puts them in her mouth or shakes them as hard and as fast as she can.  Small tanks and pirates with pointy guns are not good for this and are sure to go straight into her eye.  And believe me, we have plenty of those hanging around.

She loves rattles, her squeaky giraffe and just recently is especially pleased with herself when she gets a  hold of one of Baby O's trains or train tracks.  She absolutely knows and is delighted that she is playing with one of his toys.   Baby O is not especially happy with this new development.  He is actually very good at sharing with other kiddos his age, but this-this is new territory.  For now he is almost content letting her play with Dirty Diesel, Diesel 10 (the bad guys from Thomas the Train), and maybe a random train track or two, but every once in awhile he will tell her that she should not eat his trains.

She is getting better at eating solid foods.  She seems to still prefer her Mommy at the moment, but it's getting better.  She loves apple sauce and sweet potatoes.  Not a big fan of rice or squash, but we are still trying.  This week the doctor gave the go-ahead on more solid foods and we will start on cheerios, some chicken and maybe beans.  I'm a little nervous about beans.  The doctor may think it's all well and fine, but the doctor also doesn't have to deal with a gassy baby and the subsequent aftermath.  Enough said.

Newbie O is still a roller and seems to get around fine when she wants something (like trains), but I have noticed that she is becoming much more frustrated at the time it may take her to get to that 'something'.  She has the legs/knees all figured out, but cannot coordinate it quite yet with her arms.  Most of the time she ends up with her behind up in the air and her face in the carpet.

She also hasn't figured out how to sit herself up, but is more than happy to be propped up and play on her mini piano.  You have to be close, because she will topple over after a couple of minutes, but she always enjoys the sitting time.  And I'm almost positive she has inherited the Family O musicality.  Which is none.

Her hair is most definitely falling out.  It's coming back in blond.  No more crazy cowlick, but there are random scraps of two-tone long hair all over her head and she can look a little crazed sometimes when they decide to stick up.  Hats and large bows are definitely a good look for her.

She's still teeny-tiny.  At her six-month check-up today she weighed in at 12 pounds 6 ounces.  She has gained 2 pounds since her 4 month appointment, and although she's barely on the charts she is still gaining, healthy and happy.  Her pediatrician says she's right on schedule and we are looking forward to the next month.  Every day is a new day and a new milestone at this age.  Despite the sleepless nights, the days are fun (once I get myself moving).

And here we are-this is about as good as it gets.  Boy O with his 'fake' smile, Baby O having just gotten a black-eye in an unfortunate scooter incident, Newbie O not looking at the camera, and my giant calf.  Seriously, why does it look so giant?

This Is Love

Love comes in all different sizes, shapes and forms, but tomorrow it's coming as a surprise in Boy O's lunch box and it's in the form of a pizza lunchable.

Apparently (according to Boy O) I'm pretty old school when it comes to lunches-it's a standard boring lunch meat on whole wheat bread sandwich, fruit, juice, and some sort of snack like pretzels or a granola bar.  Every once in awhile, I add a cookie or a piece of candy, but he knows what to expect from day to day.

Last week he came home and asked me if I knew about something called 'lunchables'.  Yes, I've heard of them...they even existed way back in my day.  He said, "Mom, they even have pizza lunchables.  They are so cool.  Can we get that?"  I responded by saying (old woman that I am), "No, absolutely not.  I make your lunch.  It's healthier."  He looked pretty crestfallen knowing that his only experience with a pizza lunchable would be to look on from the sidelines in the cafeteria.

I happened to come across this so called lunchable today and thought it might be a nice treat to open up his lunch box and see this:

This is love.  Seven hundred mg of sodium love to be exact, not to mention other interesting nutrition tidbits, but I guess it's okay every once in awhile.  The large heart message from his mother might cancel out some enjoyment, but he'll never get away from that one.

Deja Vu

It was the first sunny day in about a week, so I thought we would load up the stroller and bike and try to do about a half mile around our park and see how things went.  It was slow going and at times I wondered why I was so optimistic as to take the time to adorn myself in running clothes, but all in all it was good start.

Here is the enthusiasm before we began.  It probably took us just as long to get ready and load the car as it did to walk/run the entire route.

He got a lot of practice figuring out his brakes (about every two seconds).  This picture reminds me of this post from 2010.  He's not a speed demon yet, but he's got at least a year and a half to catch up and it was fun to see him really try out his new bike without his big brother telling him what to do.

I kept telling him to look where he was going in order to steer the bike and this is the end result after looking at a bird off in the distance.

Then came the hill.  He got a bit nervous when the bike started to drift backward.

Even after a few pushes, he decided that walking back to the car was his best bet.  It was certainly faster.

Proud of his efforts, but excited to get on with his day...such a big personality in a small package.  Gotta love it!

Operation Onion and O Dark Thirty

So as not to ruin the big surprise for the boys, we referred to their new bicycles as 'onions' in regular conversation with one another.  The code was a success, they never suspected, although I'm sure they wondered why Mom and Dad were always talking excitedly about onions so close to Christmas time.

Daddy O assembled them late last night and I am happy to report that the strong smell of rubber tires is gone from my bedroom and that there is some walking room inside the closet once again.  As you can see, he was pretty excited and couldn't help but admire his work while we waited to make sure the kids were asleep.

By 10:30, everyone was sleeping, we placed the onions beside the tree, yawned and called it a night...

ZERO DARK THIRTY (FAMILY O STYLE)

1:00 am -  We awoke to a pitter patter of feet and a light knock at the door.  Foregoing any response from Mom and Dad, Boy O entered the room to inform us that he had fallen off the bed, hit his face, and  oh, by the way-Santa came!  We should all get up and look.

Daddy O took him back to his room and told him to go back to sleep.  On the way out the door, I specifically remember him saying not to wake his brother under any circumstance (they were sharing a room).

1:45 am -  I hear a small commotion and see a light on in Boy O's room while getting up to nurse Newbie O.  As Daddy O went to their bedroom to see what was going on, I caught a glimpse of Boy O fully dressed and Baby O stark naked.  I heard Baby O running around saying how he wanted to ride his bike.

Apparently, Boy O could not contain his excitement, immediately got dressed at 1 o'clock in the morning and  in the process accidentally woke his brother and decided that he too must be fully dressed to start the day.  Somehow he managed to get Baby O undressed, but of course Baby O lost interest  half way through-explaining the exuberant naked child jumping around the room.

I don't know how Daddy O managed to get them back to sleep...

3:30 am -  We were again awoken to children telling us it was time to get up.  I'm pretty sure I remember the response being something like, "GET BACK IN YOUR ROOM AND DON'T COME OUT BEFORE 5 AM!"

6:15 am - I truly can't believe they made it this long and it was finally time to discover and inspect.

Operation Onion in all its glory, Baby O no longer in his birthday suit and Boy O still fully dressed.

As usual the generosity overflowed and all my kids, myself included are incredibly spoiled.

I'm kind of hoping the kids go into a Christmas coma for the evening and sleep all the way through 'til morning.  Then my Christmas wish of just a few hours of uninterrupted sleep would come true....not likely but there's always hope I guess.