Easter Number Three

Our third Easter.  Same traditions with a little tweaking here and there, but pretty much the same as the last.  Although we are plus one child.  Like I said, it has been a little different-a baby tends to require a few tweaks.

Dying eggs always starts the excitement before Easter and the boys sure did enjoy it.  This was the first time Baby O did it all by himself.  So independent now.

The day before was our neighborhood Easter egg hunt.  The boys had a blast, and with over 500 eggs out for all the kids, the event lasted less than three minutes.

They had separate Easter egg hunts for the various ages-unfortunately for Baby O, there were many 'older' kids who knew the drill and he only got two eggs before the tennis court was completely clear.  Poor kiddo, here he is all alone looking for some eggs that had long disappeared.  I guess instead of taking pictures, I should have helped him out a bit.

On the other side of the field, Boy O knew exactly what to do and was filling his basket full.  Such a good big brother (and probably because his cup runneth over), he shared his candy filled eggs with his little brother.

Newbie O had some help from her Mimi and was completely satisfied rattling her egg.

 Back at home, enjoying all the attention.

Easter morning around seven.  An improvement since Christmas, but Boy O still got up around one.  He heard his sister crying and as I went to her room, I heard a loud whisper...."Newbie O, be quiet!  The Easter Bunny might not come!"

Suffice to say, he was hushed and put back to bed with explicit instructions not to get up until there was light coming through the blinds.

The Easter egg hunt outside was a big success!  We have always lived in places where this wasn't possible, either because of the weather or the size of the yard.  The boys had a blast.  And Baby O 'got it' and was able to collect many eggs for his basket.

Newbie O had no problems watching from the sidelines.

Success!

We had a baby egg hunt indoors.  Eggs filled with cheerios.

The annual bunny cake.  I let the boys do their thing.  This year they insisted on bright blue icing.

From our family to yours, hope your Easter was as bright and laced with colorful candy as our bunny cake.  Maybe one day we can make a pink one....although I still might be outvoted.

In One Month...

What a difference one month can make.  Newbie O can sit up all by herself, is pulling up into a standing position, calls her Daddy: Da Da, can sign for 'more' food and has her very first tooth.  Whew.  It's been quite a month for Miss Sassy Pants.

Today's photo shoot was difficult.  She insisted on chewing on the sticker.  I would take it away, only to have her erupt in screams of protest.  She certainly knows what she wants.

I think she lost sight of the sticker to try to put some blades of grass in her mouth for a couple of minutes.  Why look at the camera and smile when you can chew on grass, leaves, a sticker or a sequined head band?

Here is a picture of the two of us earlier in the month-we traveled to Alabama to visit my grandmother for her birthday.  

Newbie O has lost most of her hair.  It only seems to grow on one side of her head now and sticks out at every opportunity.  Still coming in blond, but the long strands that remain (on the one side) are half black and half blond. 

No more baby tub for this little girl.  She's just too big now!

She gets so excited when she pulls herself up.  So proud of herself.  Although she can get around on all fours, she's more interested in standing up, smiling and bouncing a bit.  I think she would rather just walk.  It really won't be long.

  

This is one of my favorite pictures-just Daddy and his Mini-Me, hanging out on the back porch and posing for the camera.

Spending a hot afternoonat the water table with her big brothers before they got into a splashing war.

She was sleeping pretty great during the day this month.  Two regular naps....then her tooth came in.  No more napping for more than 20 minutes, but at least nights seem to be getting better.  She is sleeping regularly in four to six hour stretches now which is a huge improvement from...well...just about anytime in the past eight months.  Everytime we seem to get on a schedule for any amount of time, some major life event takes place and we start back from scratch.

I'm not exactly sure how much Newbie O weighs-we'll find out next time at her nine month check-up. Tiny no longer, I'm guessing she has gained another two pounds and is probably around the 16 lb mark.  She's going up a size in diapers, fits into nine month clothes...growing like a weed like the rest of the crew.

Every day is precious....each day is momentous at this stage.  She has surprised me on so many levels this month...but I am selfishly hoping for a "Ma-Ma" next month.

Belated Valentines

I had better get this one out before I start posting about Easter....

I love Valentine's Day.  I love making Valentines.  Mostly, I just love the excuse of having kids, and having them make help constructing the Valentines they bring to parties and school.  After the ordeal of spending 10 days in the hospital, I freely admit to making my kids Valentines. Feel free to judge, but it was incredibly therapeutic to sit up the night before and put on the finishing touches and think of nothing else but how cool they were.

The kids did help a little...they are making tire tracks from black paint and rolling them on the card.

Baby O was much better at larger pieces of paper and of course larger mess.

Here are the final products.  The vehicles and planes are actually erasers, and I just put a glob of rubber cement on the card, placed the erasers on that and waited overnight for them to dry.  Voila!

The finished product turned out well and it made me feel somewhat normal again.  So I deemed this a successful venture, killing two birds with one stone: Valentines? Check.  Mommy O feeling like a human being?  Check.

And a happy Valentines day it was being home with all my boys and the little miss.  Nothing was taken for granted that week, just being home and together was plenty.  And that's what it's really about now isn't it?

The New Normal

It has taken longer than I had originally anticipated, but I think we have entered our 'new normal'.  I can definitely say it's normal because it's spring break, I have all three kids at home and I didn't blink an eye knowing that I would have to do my weekly shopping trip plus one kiddo.

This was Newbie O's first time sitting in the cart and she had a fabulous time.  Usually I wear her and I think she really felt proud to be a big girl with her siblings. Her presence also seemed to entertain both of her brothers quite a bit (and cut down on their normal brotherly picking at one another).

As you can imagine, we can be heard on the other side of the state at all times throughout the store.  I've pretty much given up on trying to make them quiet.  We are loud and proud, I guess.

Hoping for many more successful, stress-free shopping trips, but I still maintain they are easier with two kids, not three.  And for those of you with larger families,  how do you do it?  Where do they fit?

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).