Crafting with the kid lets

$4 Walmart spooky tree house craft kit delivered.

I stole Benadryl

He sent me an email today at work, the subject line made my heart sink.

It was a long shot, the application for this position.  But it was in Oregon, it was "home."  He wasn't even selected for an interview.  Infuriating to me, and I'm not even the one with the ridiculously impressive CV (resume).  Disappointment crept in.  I was feeling blue, and bummed that apparently Mississippi is our place (permanently?) or at least for another year.  This lonely state, filled with little support, few friends, and nothing to do.  Poor me.

*****
Then he sent me a text message later that day, of Hartley's belly.  Huge rash.

I called him back, asked how she looked, how she was breathing.  He was freaked.  "Get home fast, she's making me nervous."

I left work abruptly.  Ran to the pharmacy section of Walmart and grabbed Benadryl.

Then proceeded to run out the store.  Yes, I stole the Benadryl.  Not on purpose, but I was just rushing thinking of my girl and left without paying.  I'll remedy this not paying part, obviously.  While I'm on the subject of law breaking, I'll also report that I ran all the stop signs in my neighborhood.  Twice, yesterday.  I don't regret either - the Benadryl stealing or the stop sign running.

Anyway.

We get to the ER as she started coughing and wheezing.  I get nervous - we live in a small town, with a small hospital that doesn't have a pediatric unit.  The closest Children's hospital is close to 2 hours away.  I text a few trusy, local resources (a physician and NP) and they both reply back quickly, both calling and texting things that were exactly what I needed to hear and do - "epi and Benadryl, don't let them leave you in the waiting room, demand to be seen, listen to her breathing, look at her throat." 

At the ER they gave her meds and fluids, kept her a while for observation, and sent us on our way.  Stated she will likely be a kid who needs to have an epi-pen at all times in case of this happening again, and will likely need allergy testing.



Here is the progression of the human baby "hive."  Bottom left picture her whole back, belly and neck was just one huge hive.  Clearly after epi, things quickly turned for the better as shown by the bottom right picture of our wild baby trying to bust out of the ER.  She was a wild thing after they gave her all those meds.

We've thought about what could be the cause.  Over and over.

No idea.
*****
Today has been exhausting, and tear filled, and a day I NEVER want to re-live.  Ever.  But at the same time, it has been just so amazingly good for my soul.

I thought that the rejection email about the Oregon position was a super low point, that being "stuck" here in Mississippi for another year without friends and support was the worst thing ever.

But then my baby went and had a near anaphylactic reaction on me.  That, well, that is the worst thing ever. 

It is all about perception, in life. 

There are far worse things in the world than not living where you necessailry want to: prime example, today's terrible adventure.  Yes, my heart will always long for the PNW.  But if Mississippi is where we are staying, well than I'll make the best of it.  I'll save up for yearly trips home, Skype and call more frequently, and make an effort to make and nurture friendships here.

*****
She is recovering nicely, but having a wild baby recovery.  Steroid/benadryl induced crazy paired with sleep deprivation, and intense itching.  And I couldn't be more thankful and relieved to have this little crazy human, back home, and breathing well.  It's been a stressful last few days.  Praying this NEVER happens again.

Kip, 6 years old. milestone moment: rides a bike

He started Kindergarden in August.  He went from knowing his ABC's in August, and is now reading beginner books.  2 months.  He's taken off and is thriving.  He's excited about his progress and points to words when we are out and about "mom, that says red, we, see, etc.  I know that because my brain is getting smarter."

He also decided on October 5th that he was ready to ride a bike without training wheels.  He got on, and took off steady.  Didn't fall at all.  He rode for a while.  I ran along side the first few times, but he assured me he didn't need me to hold it steady.  He kept saying, "I'm just so PROUD OF MYSELF."

 He sat a the kitchen table and did his homework all decked out in his fireman costume.

Then today, he did the monkey bars at the park.  Went down the fireman pole too.


6 year old boys are rad.  Really rad.

3rd grade

He's in 3rd grade.

and in Mississippi it is 9 week exam time.  Third grade is huge.  It is the benchmark grade where you MUST meet certain criteria to move on.  Apparently this is made clear at school because Ryker is very aware of it.  Anyway, comprehensive exams covering the last 9 weeks of material in spelling, math, reading, and science all happen this week.  As Ryker has been complaining that he has, "test every single day, hard ones, all in the same freaking week!"

So I made the choice to go to the park today.  Because he needed it.  His "I hate school, my teacher is the worst" attitude, which is very atypical for him, needed the mental break.

Park date delivered.  A surprise afternoon as a family of 6, on an abnormally hot, sunny October day.  My test stressed 8 year old, was nothing but snuggles and smiles.  He mastered the monkey bars a few times, but told Paul "don't talk to me I have to concentrate!"  He doesn't mess around when monkeying around.  Then he helped Hartley on the slide.  Cutest, most lovable kid ever.

After showers they played less than 15 minutes of Mario Kart, their only screen time of the day.

 Also note my priorities in life are correct: Halloween decorations up, but laundry basket full of clean clothes that need folded and put away.

Then 7pm rolled around, and I figured we could just do his spelling words quickly before bed.  He always gets 100%.  I'd say the word, he'd spell it out loud while bouncing a ball around the room.  He missed a few words when we were going over them, and got all in a fit, because if he misses a few he won't get 100% A+ on his graded test paper.  My type A, perfection driven, firstborn.  He's so hard on himself.  So, very, hard.  I hate it for him, and I hate that I don't know how to help him to understand that it is okay to not be perfect.  We moved onto studying the math study guide, he said "I didn't hear anything you were trying to say."  Which was my cue to say "that is fine, we've still got tomorrow, you've done great studying tonight."  And apparently that was just the worst thing to say, ever.  He got all worked up, and it was just melt down central.

"I don't want to do homework tomorrow.  I want to play basketball after school with dad.  School is stupid, I hate school.  My teacher is so mean for giving so much homework…yadayadayada."  He stormed up to his room, and hated me for the rest of the night and would only speak to Paul.  Paul had him in smiles before bed, and had to reassure me that I wasn't being hard on him at all, or a crappy parent while I was trying to help him study tonight.  This parenting gig is the best, hardest thing ever, and I am just so very thankful I've got him to help me!

Anyway, so that was my parenting fail.  Apparently attempting spelling words, then his least favorite subject…math... after a long day of school then evening out at the park was just a wash.  But the real fail I think is having a bunch of 3rd graders take comprehensive exams like they expect high schoolers to do.  I wonder the rational behind doing exams all in the same week, and not spreading it over 2 weeks at least?  It sure would make life a bit less stressful for my guy, who told me "I'm not going to school tomorrow" when I attempted to kiss him goodnight.

From one sad mama, and a stressed out test-dreading 8 year old I'm hoping for a better next two days of  school for my favorite firstborn.

On healing broken hearts

My Gramps had heart surgery yesterday, "to heal his broken heart" Jovie says.  Hoping this surgery is the start to some good things, and a much improved quality of life for one of my favorite people ever.

I raced him in my uncle's back yard when I was a teen.  He kicked my butt…and I was pretty fast too.  He's got fight, lots of fight, and it was obvious today when I got the text from my Grandma that he was off the ventilator by 1am, and already up in a chair by 7am this morning.  He's is a rockstar on post op day 0.  My Grandma said he's pretty sedated now and has been sleeping most of the day, and in pain (which is expected).  He is in the ICU, but I'm sure will be moved in no time to step down, where he'll annoy his nurses and try to do more than he should.  He's not out of the woods yet, praying for no blood clots, stroke, bleeding, or any crazy heart rate issues.  Wishing that Oregon wasn't so far away, always, but today especially.

and I am ashamed to admit, but that was only the second time ever that I've talked to my Grandma since we left Oregon.  The second time.

Because I suck.

I've done this distance thing for 4.5 years now.  I've learned in those 4.5 years that I've sucked at it and have been doing it all so terribly wrong.  I've neglected relationships because it is hard.  Hard to just talk on the phone.  In general it is hard for me to talk on the phone because of my chaotic life, which I can easily use as a legit excuse.  But the truth of it all is, I'm not a phone girl, have never been.  It worked out just fine when I was in Oregon because I could see people face to face on a regular basis.  Give them hugs.  Then I moved away, and that was that.  I thought being away without talking would be easier.  Because talking on the phone and actually being with people face to face is just so, SO different to me.  I figured if I didn't talk on the phone I wouldn't be as homesick.  But it turns out, that I'm still homesick, and I've lost 4.5 years of relationships.  

I hate that it has taken his heart surgery for me to figure this out.  That our time is so very limited and tomorrow is never promised.  I have a slew of phone messages from people I love saved in my cell, and I don't want those to be the things that keeps my homesick heart at rest anymore.

So I'm making changes, and calls.  And hoping my heart is filled with happy and less homesick in the process.  Today, talking to my Grandma was just the start.  She's witty and hilarious, and just what I needed.

So here is to making changes, and phone calls, and to healing broken hearts.

Friday in fall

Friday.  Delivered.  Well mostly, except for those 10 minutes of stroller drama with the girls earlier in the day.  We all played outside together as a family of 6 once all the boys came home.  Hartley collected rocks in a bucket for over an hour.  The kids moved the leaves all over the yard with various rakes, brooms, and shovels.  Spread them everywhere except the bag that I was trying to convince them to fill for a dollar.

 They chased, wrestled, played ball with Paul.  He kept saying he was schooling them the entire time.

Rounded out the evening with backyard s'mores.  Plural, because they really did want and eat s'more.  Also: the pink jacket, size 12 months.  She brought it out, I said this was her's when she was Hartley's size, and that Hartley wore it earlier today.  She said it'd work for now.  Because I'm a mama of 4, we just put it on.  "see mom, it fits me still."  Not quite, but it'll work.  

And her gorgeousness- perfect little features, sticky marshmallow face…well just so much love.

Fire pit and s'mores are his love language.  "lets do this again tomorrow mom, and Sunday too."  

He's 8, almost 9, and refused to let me get a picture, so I snuck one.  He was there with us, and loved it.  Just didn't want to be photographed.

Then we had a brief game of 3:1, I schooled them, then Ryk kicked the ball too hard.  It hit Jovie's shin, then bumped up and hit Kip's head.  So the fun was over.  Showers then bed.  

Side note: I adore the smell the fire pit leaves on my clothes after s'more sessions with my kiddos.  Brings back all the feel good moments of family camping trips.  I hope that I'm creating these memories for them, too.    

Strollers, babies, stuffed cats, and fatigue.

The first fall like day arrived in Mississippi and I savored it.  60 degrees, cool breeze, crisp air.  It felt cold, and I didn't want to admit it, because that would mean that I must be like a tiny bit part acclimated to being a Mississippi girl.  But after a summer of the heat index bringing the real feel temp to 110+, well 60 degrees was a fleece jacked and boot weather for sure type of day.  The girls wanted to go on a walk.  Jovie asked to bring her stroller, "it'll be so much fun mama.  Please, please, PLEASE!"  In my attempts to say yes, more…"Sure."  Well then Hartley went and found her stroller and gathered up her tribe of babies too.

And we strolled, three cats for cat lady Jovie.  

Three babies, for the baby hoarder, Hartley.  

 

It was so fun.  They were racing down the street.  Giggling.  I wasn't paying attention to how far we were getting from home, and how close it was to nap/quiet time.

and then about 3 seconds after these adorably cute pictures were taken.  Crash.  Hartley's head, into the pavement.  No worries now, she's good, just a slight bruise.  But at that very moment, when we were 10 minutes from home, the girls decided they were done.  

Like done, done.  Meltdown central done.  Jovie declared "my legs are to egg-sauce-ted a take another step."  We were 10 minutes from home, and 6 minutes away from their usual quiet/nap time start.  Hartley was still whimpering a bit from the whole head meets concrete incident.  So I grabbed the stroller loot - three cats, thee babies - and shoved em in the front of my fleece jacket, zipped up the jacket for safe keeping.  Folded up the strollers and tucked on in each of my back jean pockets, and slung a girl on each hip.  Thank goodness for these mama hips that never went back to pre pregnancy size.  They were good for something today.  In my mind I was thinking, I've got this, just about 10 minutes to go with this load.  I was starting to sweat, and then a stuffed cat slipped out from my jacket.  "MAMA, GET STAR KITTY!"  I lunged down to pick it up, because it is nothing short of a crisis if one of the crazy cat girl's stuffed cats go missing.  I tuck the cat back in my jacket when another slips out.  This happened 3 times.  By the 3rd time of lunging with 50 lbs of little girls, after I had already ran this morning, I just had to laugh.

I told Jovie, "I think you can make it the rest of the way home.  We are almost there."  She says, in her most dramatic, tear-filled voice, "You love Hartley betta, a cause you are still carrying her home."  I sigh.  Told her that is never true, I love you both just the same.  I picked her exhausted little self back up and slung her right back on my tired right hip.  Stuck the folded up stroller handles back into my back jean pocket, one in each pocket so they were clink, clang, clicking behind with every step hitting my calf muscles with each stride.  I told Jovie, how about mommy just sits these strollers by this lovely neighbors mailbox (I had no idea who the neighbors were, but told her that "Mr. Fred would make sure they stayed there until we can come pick them up later."  But oh, no, no freaking way was she buying into the little white lie I was trying to sell to her.  "You don't know that there is a Mr. Fred there, and if you leave em by the street then they will be gone foreva and eva, and this walk outside in the cold was the worstest idea of my entire life."  I laughed.  "MOM, DON'T LAUGH AT ME, I AM SO SERIOUS!"

Oh girlfriend.  So I continued on.  Girls, strollers, thee cats, three babies and a whole lot of sweat.  We made it back.  Sanity from what was suppose to be a brief, fun, fall walk was found during nap/quiet time.

Anyway: lesson learned the hard way - girls are dramatic, and don't walk so far away from home when they bring along a slew of treasures.  Always learning with these littlest loves.