Elliotism of the day:
Iron Man . . . Iron Rod . . . Iron . . . Iron
I bet they named the Iron Rod after Iron Man . . .
(If you don't get the Iron Rod reference, you are probably not a Mormon--in case you were unsure. You can go here to read the allegory of the Tree of Life in the Book of Mormon)
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Reverence
In church today we pulled out the wire-bound picture kit during the sacrament and started flipping through it to help Elliot remain occupied and relatively reverent. We came to the baptismal font picture. . .
"Hey, it's a hot tub!"
"Hey, it's a hot tub!"
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Shoot Me Now
I think I mentioned that my child has taken ill recently. This is his third bout of strep throat in 2011 and since we weren't having enough fun, we decided to throw in a little influenza A. All this in the midst of a job and insurance change (with an $1800 deductible, thank you), throw in some COBRA payments, some MRIs, X-Rays, CT scans, an ambulance ride and all sorts of other medical excitement (that's all Matt's stuff, Ethan didn't require nearly as much excitement) and we are having an expensive medical party! Wanna come? I really need to post about the valentine/birthday party ambulance trip--it was really exciting. But back to the topic at hand--the child with the flu.
In my defense, getting a flu shot in Michigan is about as easy as a triathlon. I'm only exaggerating a wee bit. Our first year in Michigan I tried to get my children a flu shot. This was the year of the swine flu, but nonetheless, even the standard flu shot was not readily available. My doctor apparently didn't get any childrens vaccine from the the state so the other option was to go wait in line at the county health department on a particular day with every other county resident and their children for several hours to try and get a flu shot. I drove down there and saw that the line snaked around two city blocks in freezing temperatures and decided given we'd all probably die of hypothermia and boredom before getting shot, I bagged it. And nobody got the flu.
This year no swine flu, so surely my doc would get the shot. No such luck. Nobody retail will stick a kid--oh, and Elliot would have to go through the routine twice. So, this year I got my shot at the drugstore as did Matt and I missed the flu shot clinics for the boys before I realized they were even being held. It's amazing every child in Michigan doesn't die of the flu before the year is out. In February, shortly after Ethan's second round of strep, they shut his school down for a couple of days because there was too much flu going around. Ya think? Perhaps if they made the shot more readily available, we could avoid this.
I digress. So, even though it makes me look like a selfish and bad parent, I've just showed up in Texas and my child takes ill and I have to explain to the doctor that no, I didn't get either child shot, and yes, my husband and I got ours . . . but in my defense . . . nobody wants to hear my excuses amidst the condescending looks and clicking tongues. Besides people, I am being punished for my sins. I really, really, really am.
You see, when Elliot was a mere newborn and Ethan was nigh upon 3 years old, Ethan contracted influenza A. Again I was punished for my selfishness. I had gotten my shot at one of my OB visits, and had never gotten around to getting Ethan his. Does anyone out there have a strong-willed, belligerent, bull-headed child? Then you understand this. I spent two weeks of pure hell quarantining the baby from the three year old who refused to take any kind of fever reducer of his own free will. His fever spiked to 106 multiple times. We spent a good three evenings in the ER where the nurses kindly pinned him down and administered tylenol while he screamed. He spat $80 tamilfu exorcist style all over his bedroom walls. He learned how to spit medicine out of the back of his throat while his head was pinned down and his jaw held open by his desperate parents. I once turned on a cold shower and threw him in fully clothed to follow through on my threat that if he did not take his medicine, I would hold him under a cold shower to get his body temperature down. It did only take one cold shower for him to be somewhat more cooperative--but only slightly more so. Once the fever finally broke--8 days after it began--it immediately returned with searing ear pain. We took him to the doctor who just barely dodged the brunt of a full-force three-year-old kick to the groin while attempting to examine his ear.
I swore I would get a flu shot for my children from then on out. So much for swearing. Here we are again, and though he doesn't spit the medicine back out at me, and he doesn't typically require being pinned down, he is certainly not cooperative or pleasant about the whole thing. In an effort to keep his fever from spiking to the point where he is really miserably uncooperative, we've been waking him up every three hours at night to administer fever reducer. This morning at 3am, I spent 20 minutes arguing with him about swallowing one stinking pill so he could go back to sleep and not wake up in pain. We've had tantrums, night sweats that end in screaming matches because somehow it's my fault that he's soaked in sweat and refuses to let me help him change his clothes or take medicine, hunger strikes, bellyaches (of every variety) and just plain unpleasantness. Try explaining to a 7-year-old at 2am that you would like to help him, but rudeness, belligerence, and screaming at your mother typically don't make her want to help you very badly.
I think he's on themend. At least I really really really hope he's getting better, for all of our sakes.
P.S. Should I feel bad that I sent him to school for a day after two days on the antibiotic (for the strep) assuming that his crankiness was due to just being home too long rather than to (as we later found out) the flu?
P.S.S. Do you think we brought this with us from Michigan, or did he catch it after he got here? How long does it take to incubate?
P.P.S.S. What are the chances Elliot won't get it?
P.P.P.S.S.S. Did I mention that if the strep keeps coming back they want to do a CT scan to look for an abscess on his tonsils or throat which would have to be surgically drained? That should make for a fun recovery.
In my defense, getting a flu shot in Michigan is about as easy as a triathlon. I'm only exaggerating a wee bit. Our first year in Michigan I tried to get my children a flu shot. This was the year of the swine flu, but nonetheless, even the standard flu shot was not readily available. My doctor apparently didn't get any childrens vaccine from the the state so the other option was to go wait in line at the county health department on a particular day with every other county resident and their children for several hours to try and get a flu shot. I drove down there and saw that the line snaked around two city blocks in freezing temperatures and decided given we'd all probably die of hypothermia and boredom before getting shot, I bagged it. And nobody got the flu.
This year no swine flu, so surely my doc would get the shot. No such luck. Nobody retail will stick a kid--oh, and Elliot would have to go through the routine twice. So, this year I got my shot at the drugstore as did Matt and I missed the flu shot clinics for the boys before I realized they were even being held. It's amazing every child in Michigan doesn't die of the flu before the year is out. In February, shortly after Ethan's second round of strep, they shut his school down for a couple of days because there was too much flu going around. Ya think? Perhaps if they made the shot more readily available, we could avoid this.
I digress. So, even though it makes me look like a selfish and bad parent, I've just showed up in Texas and my child takes ill and I have to explain to the doctor that no, I didn't get either child shot, and yes, my husband and I got ours . . . but in my defense . . . nobody wants to hear my excuses amidst the condescending looks and clicking tongues. Besides people, I am being punished for my sins. I really, really, really am.
You see, when Elliot was a mere newborn and Ethan was nigh upon 3 years old, Ethan contracted influenza A. Again I was punished for my selfishness. I had gotten my shot at one of my OB visits, and had never gotten around to getting Ethan his. Does anyone out there have a strong-willed, belligerent, bull-headed child? Then you understand this. I spent two weeks of pure hell quarantining the baby from the three year old who refused to take any kind of fever reducer of his own free will. His fever spiked to 106 multiple times. We spent a good three evenings in the ER where the nurses kindly pinned him down and administered tylenol while he screamed. He spat $80 tamilfu exorcist style all over his bedroom walls. He learned how to spit medicine out of the back of his throat while his head was pinned down and his jaw held open by his desperate parents. I once turned on a cold shower and threw him in fully clothed to follow through on my threat that if he did not take his medicine, I would hold him under a cold shower to get his body temperature down. It did only take one cold shower for him to be somewhat more cooperative--but only slightly more so. Once the fever finally broke--8 days after it began--it immediately returned with searing ear pain. We took him to the doctor who just barely dodged the brunt of a full-force three-year-old kick to the groin while attempting to examine his ear.
I swore I would get a flu shot for my children from then on out. So much for swearing. Here we are again, and though he doesn't spit the medicine back out at me, and he doesn't typically require being pinned down, he is certainly not cooperative or pleasant about the whole thing. In an effort to keep his fever from spiking to the point where he is really miserably uncooperative, we've been waking him up every three hours at night to administer fever reducer. This morning at 3am, I spent 20 minutes arguing with him about swallowing one stinking pill so he could go back to sleep and not wake up in pain. We've had tantrums, night sweats that end in screaming matches because somehow it's my fault that he's soaked in sweat and refuses to let me help him change his clothes or take medicine, hunger strikes, bellyaches (of every variety) and just plain unpleasantness. Try explaining to a 7-year-old at 2am that you would like to help him, but rudeness, belligerence, and screaming at your mother typically don't make her want to help you very badly.
I think he's on themend. At least I really really really hope he's getting better, for all of our sakes.
P.S. Should I feel bad that I sent him to school for a day after two days on the antibiotic (for the strep) assuming that his crankiness was due to just being home too long rather than to (as we later found out) the flu?
P.S.S. Do you think we brought this with us from Michigan, or did he catch it after he got here? How long does it take to incubate?
P.P.S.S. What are the chances Elliot won't get it?
P.P.P.S.S.S. Did I mention that if the strep keeps coming back they want to do a CT scan to look for an abscess on his tonsils or throat which would have to be surgically drained? That should make for a fun recovery.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Risky Business
So this morning, as my ADD-Working Mom brain jumped from considering one unfinished task to another (hmmmm, what should I do with my couple spare Saturday hours before General Conference?), I started jumping from going on a bike ride in the warm humidity of a Texas spring, to cleaning, to unpacking, hitting the community garage sale, to . . . wait a second!! Community garage sale? There is an opportunity for multi-tasking here! I hopped on my bike and began the garage sale circuit.
Yes, I am still unpacking, and up for a little garage sailing--I got rids of some stuff before the big move and would like some chairs so I can sit on the porch in the sweltering heat of the summer y'all. Then I remembered why I've switched my loyalties over the years--a rarely garage sail, I'm a pretty strict Craigslister. Why? I thought you'd never ask. You see, garage sailing typically results in a lot of time combing through somebody's junk coming home with a lot of stuff I didn't need in the first place, whereas Craigslisting is much more pinpointed--get in, find what you want, get out. Nevertheless, garage sailing, particularly close to home, can sometimes result in great treasure. However, bikes are not great for hauling said treasure home. Especially considering I gave away my bike trailer in the move.
So back to my story. I'm on my bike, doing the old garage sale drive-by. You know, slow down, try and act like you're just on a little ride, not evaluating their junk in the blink of an eye. You may even circle back and holler out "GOT ANY PATIO CHAIRS?!!" But that feels a bit impolite. If you're going to ask, you may as well stop. But what about when you've decided to stop, but by the time you've stopped your bike (or car), you've realized you really shouldn't have? How much time are you obligated to spend gazing at mounds of baby clothes and chipped dishes before you say "thanks a lot!" and head out without feeling like a rude schmuck who's just spent all of 12 seconds gazing condescendingly on their preciously priced stuff and declared it all worthless junk? There was so much baby gear out there today that I was concerned it might be contagious, even in a drive-by. Besides, I had very limited time before first session. The good thing about garage sailing on a bike is that you're very limited on what you can carry away, so while you think--hmmm, that fat Buddha lamp just might go well in the living room, since you can't strap it to your back too easily, you're bound to walk away and think about it. The distance of course is bound to bring you back to your senses and ask yourself "What the @!*! was I thinking? I need a lamp of Dionysis in the living room, not Buddha!
I digress. So I had picked up a hedge trimmer for $3 and was balancing it on my handlebars when I stopped at one last sale Just as I was contemplating picking up a box of adult diapers (you never know), I saw it. Just the thing I must have unknowingly come seeking this day--or perhaps it sought me. RISK, the game of World Domination. Do you have any idea how many hours of my childhood were spent in pursuit of World Domination? I have successfully indoctrinated my children into George Lucas's world of Star Wars (much to my husband's dismay), really, what is left besides Risk? Ethan turns 8 in a couple of weeks. I think given his obsessive, belligerent, dominating personality, he will be a natural and is likely ready to assume the quest for World Domination. And, it was only a dollar.
So with my two purchases of the day carefully balanced, I made my way home. The thick humidity was already upon me for this my first bike ride of the new climate. Have you noticed how much more you smell things when you're on a bike? I o. My husband thinks my sniffer is a bit supercharged (I can't believe he can't smell the cat box sometimes, but then again, he couldn't seem hear the baby in the middle of the night either . . . ), but sometimes, a good whiff is all it takes to bring back a memory (for good or bad) so strong you nearly drop your hedge trimmer and board game and fall off your bike.
Today smelled like Florida. Totally Florida. I spend 9 months biking around Vero Beach when I was 25. It was a great time. Weird, but a great time. And today Texas smelled like Florida. I guess that makes sense. It was comforting, in a weird sort of way. I was only in Vero for 9 months, but I guess a familiar scent makes a new situation at least familiar. If you know what I mean.
So this evening, Ethan and I took on the world. At 9:30 we had to back away from the table, leaving the troops in position for the night, ready to take up the battle again in the morning. (The kid has been home all week with strep and the flu, I suppose I shouldn't keep him up all night too). He's taking to the game really well (I'm so proud). I anticipate wasting some more hours of my life in the pursuit, but hey, I'm convinced Risk made me smarter--or at least kept me out of trouble--so hopefully it'll do the same for my child as well. And maybe I'll be able to beat him more often than I could my brothers . . .
Yes, I am still unpacking, and up for a little garage sailing--I got rids of some stuff before the big move and would like some chairs so I can sit on the porch in the sweltering heat of the summer y'all. Then I remembered why I've switched my loyalties over the years--a rarely garage sail, I'm a pretty strict Craigslister. Why? I thought you'd never ask. You see, garage sailing typically results in a lot of time combing through somebody's junk coming home with a lot of stuff I didn't need in the first place, whereas Craigslisting is much more pinpointed--get in, find what you want, get out. Nevertheless, garage sailing, particularly close to home, can sometimes result in great treasure. However, bikes are not great for hauling said treasure home. Especially considering I gave away my bike trailer in the move.
So back to my story. I'm on my bike, doing the old garage sale drive-by. You know, slow down, try and act like you're just on a little ride, not evaluating their junk in the blink of an eye. You may even circle back and holler out "GOT ANY PATIO CHAIRS?!!" But that feels a bit impolite. If you're going to ask, you may as well stop. But what about when you've decided to stop, but by the time you've stopped your bike (or car), you've realized you really shouldn't have? How much time are you obligated to spend gazing at mounds of baby clothes and chipped dishes before you say "thanks a lot!" and head out without feeling like a rude schmuck who's just spent all of 12 seconds gazing condescendingly on their preciously priced stuff and declared it all worthless junk? There was so much baby gear out there today that I was concerned it might be contagious, even in a drive-by. Besides, I had very limited time before first session. The good thing about garage sailing on a bike is that you're very limited on what you can carry away, so while you think--hmmm, that fat Buddha lamp just might go well in the living room, since you can't strap it to your back too easily, you're bound to walk away and think about it. The distance of course is bound to bring you back to your senses and ask yourself "What the @!*! was I thinking? I need a lamp of Dionysis in the living room, not Buddha!
I digress. So I had picked up a hedge trimmer for $3 and was balancing it on my handlebars when I stopped at one last sale Just as I was contemplating picking up a box of adult diapers (you never know), I saw it. Just the thing I must have unknowingly come seeking this day--or perhaps it sought me. RISK, the game of World Domination. Do you have any idea how many hours of my childhood were spent in pursuit of World Domination? I have successfully indoctrinated my children into George Lucas's world of Star Wars (much to my husband's dismay), really, what is left besides Risk? Ethan turns 8 in a couple of weeks. I think given his obsessive, belligerent, dominating personality, he will be a natural and is likely ready to assume the quest for World Domination. And, it was only a dollar.
So with my two purchases of the day carefully balanced, I made my way home. The thick humidity was already upon me for this my first bike ride of the new climate. Have you noticed how much more you smell things when you're on a bike? I o. My husband thinks my sniffer is a bit supercharged (I can't believe he can't smell the cat box sometimes, but then again, he couldn't seem hear the baby in the middle of the night either . . . ), but sometimes, a good whiff is all it takes to bring back a memory (for good or bad) so strong you nearly drop your hedge trimmer and board game and fall off your bike.
Today smelled like Florida. Totally Florida. I spend 9 months biking around Vero Beach when I was 25. It was a great time. Weird, but a great time. And today Texas smelled like Florida. I guess that makes sense. It was comforting, in a weird sort of way. I was only in Vero for 9 months, but I guess a familiar scent makes a new situation at least familiar. If you know what I mean.
So this evening, Ethan and I took on the world. At 9:30 we had to back away from the table, leaving the troops in position for the night, ready to take up the battle again in the morning. (The kid has been home all week with strep and the flu, I suppose I shouldn't keep him up all night too). He's taking to the game really well (I'm so proud). I anticipate wasting some more hours of my life in the pursuit, but hey, I'm convinced Risk made me smarter--or at least kept me out of trouble--so hopefully it'll do the same for my child as well. And maybe I'll be able to beat him more often than I could my brothers . . .
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Alternate Reality
I feel a bit like I've time-traveled into a sort of alternate reality. It's still me and my family and it resembles my life, but it's not anything like I ever expected my life to be. I know, y'all (the couple of you who are still around) want to know what the heck has Jen been whining about for so long? So, in a nutshell, here is the synopsis of my new alternate reality.
We had been happily living in Michigan for a couple of years when my husband suffered a minor injury to his foot during summer camp last year. That minor injury gradually became more and more problematic through the end of the year until by January, it was becoming unbearable. By February he was unable to work and went on unpaid medical leave. The diagnosis in a nutshell is a nerve disorder where the nerves misfire and cause extreme pain subsequent to an injury that is very disproportionate to the original injury and doesn't disappear when the injury heals. Essentially the nerves in his foot are telling his brain that his foot is in severe trauma and the brain in return tries to save the body at the expense of the foot by shutting down circulation, etc. to that foot. It's weird, I know. The doctors still don't quite understand it. Matt had this condition when he was 15 and was able, through intensive physical therapy, to beat it into remission where it has stayed until now. Now it has returned with a vengeance.
So, in February we began searching for intensive treatment programs for this type of condition. We found a few of them--in Texas. It just so happens that my employer is headquartered in Houston as well and it doesn't hurt that housing is very affordable in Texas and the recession hasn't hit as hard there either.
With Matt's income instantly gone and his condition deteriorating we began much prayer and research and discussion with my employer. The end result was a decision to resign Matt's position, move to Houston as quickly as possible, allowing me to go full time with my employer, purchase a home on my income, and start the process to get Matt into a treatment program. Being here offers us a wide array of medical options, affordable housing, and a broad range of possibilities when Matt is ready to re-enter the work force. It's all happened fast--very fast. Unfortunately, this also all means that Matt has had to leave a job he loves, but given the unknowns of his long term health and the physically demanding nature of his job, there was little else we could do.
Not only has life been turned up on it's end in many ways, there is the extreme climate change. We went from freezing rain, snow, wind, and chipping ice off the car, to 85 degrees all week our first week here. It's just weird. It feels like we've gone straight from dead of winter to late summer (I know, late summer here is a completely different unbearable beast . . . all in good time). The boys are enjoying biking around in shorts and T-shirts in the warm weather.
So here is the status update in short form:
1) We purchased a home and moved to Texas 10 days ago.
2) I am now working full time and Matt is doing his best to be a stay-at-home dad within his health restraints.
3) We are hoping to get Matt started in a program within a few weeks (they keep wanting to put him through more tests, which drags the whole thing out--just put him in the program already!)
4) The boys are adjusting as well as can be expected--Ethan is getting to know his new school and Elliot is now in a full-day preschool program which should be a good prep for Kindergarten next year.
That's it! Yes, we're okay--sorry if I've sounded so gloomy, it's just been a difficult patch here, which isn't quite over yet, but at least we're in a good place and trying to find a new normal to settle in to.
No, this blog post isn't that entertaining, but at least it's informative. I'll work on posting more regularly, but my free time has been significantly reduced of late.
Thank you for all your well wishes and prayers. Please keep them coming as we're still trying to sort out Matt's health.
Oh, and we're thrilled with our new home. Check out my kitchen island (great for making fresh pasta, hosting parties--for which we will need friends, and doing all sorts of other exciting things).
I won't post a pic of me using the jetted soaking tub in my master bathroom, but it's a pretty fantastic element of the new house too. So, if you're in Texas in the near future, give me a holler, or a howdy as the case may be.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Trust and Release
Sometimes you just gotta trust that all things will work out for your good . . . then you've got to let go and let God take over. I'm trying to hand over the reins. I'll be back to this blog soon enough with details. I promise. I'm still here, just in over my head and trying to relax so God can float me back to the top and I can just breathe. I just happened into a blog that said "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain." I better get out my dancing shoes because this storm is far from over.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Scale
Once again, I've allowed distractions to well, distract me from my blog. I have noted that this is my happy place, so I guess you could assume that when I am away, it is because I have not been very happy. You could be right. Perhaps we have been struggling to find footing in the challenges recently thrown our way. (You know you've hit the big time when your family is apparently on the docket at Ward Council). Then again perhaps I have been away solely because I've been so distracted by all the great fun and exciting adventures we've been embarking on lately. You'll just have to keep wondering because I am not a whiner . . . Quit sniggering.
On a completely unrelated note, if you've spent any time at the hospital in the past few years, you may be familiar with the pain scale. You know, "What is your pain right now on a scale of one to ten, one being you're sitting in a hammock on a breezy summer day and ten being your hammock has just been invaded by fire ants?" Sometimes children pick up on the tensions and troubles of their parents, regardless of how much parents try to insulate them. Their innate perception then manifests itself in unexpected and often humorous ways. Just yesterday after Elliot bit his big brother's arm, for which he promptly received the resultant swat on the face, both were seeking comfort from me when Ethan says "my arm is between a 5 and a 6 right now" to which Elliot responded "my cheek is between a 14 and 15". I just had to laugh a little. Maybe I'll find that happy place again, though right now I'd give it about a 6 or a 7.
On a completely unrelated note, if you've spent any time at the hospital in the past few years, you may be familiar with the pain scale. You know, "What is your pain right now on a scale of one to ten, one being you're sitting in a hammock on a breezy summer day and ten being your hammock has just been invaded by fire ants?" Sometimes children pick up on the tensions and troubles of their parents, regardless of how much parents try to insulate them. Their innate perception then manifests itself in unexpected and often humorous ways. Just yesterday after Elliot bit his big brother's arm, for which he promptly received the resultant swat on the face, both were seeking comfort from me when Ethan says "my arm is between a 5 and a 6 right now" to which Elliot responded "my cheek is between a 14 and 15". I just had to laugh a little. Maybe I'll find that happy place again, though right now I'd give it about a 6 or a 7.
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