Payback

credit

On Thursday my sweetie and I were out running some errands. We were feeling a little thirsty, but it was after 4:00 so Happy Hour (meaning half price drinks) at Sonic was over.  I rummaged through my purse until I pulled out a coupon for a free 44 oz drink and we pulled into a parking spot. Now 44 oz is way more than I can drink. I'm not much of a soda drinker anyway, but my sweetie could probably drink two...before we left the parking lot...

Point being, I would have been good with him getting a drink and me just waiting until we got home, but being my awesome sweetie that he is, he ordered my favorite fountain drink, Diet Cherry Sprite. I'm OK with sharing and we often do, but since I had heard him coughing a little, I thought I'd better ask, "Are you sick?" He assured me that he was fine, it must have been allergies.

Not our tree, thank goodness

We shared the soda as we finished our errands and headed for home.

By bedtime I was starting to sneeze...my nose filled up with gunk and my ears needed to pop. It seems that I have picked up a good old-fashioned head cold. And just when "popcorn" is popping on my apricot tree! I guess it serves me right for volunteering him to coach tee ball...at least we can be miserable together.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

Every year (usually a bit closer to New Year's Eve) my sweetie and I spend an hour or two evaluating the year and what our new year might bring. Since I started on this Charles Dickens thing, I decided it might be fun to speculate on where my life and the lives of my loved ones might be next year at this time...so here are my thoughts on Christmas 2012 or Christmas Yet to Come. Keep in mind that this is all guessing (and wishing) and not necessarily backed up with any amount of certainty. I'll let you figure out which ones are wishes and which are inevitable.

Bossy and Gamer and their little brood...

Gamer will re-enroll in school and finish the last few classes he needs to complete his Associates Degree. Bossy will keep working for DCFS and maybe (hopefully!) get pregnant. Bean Dip will continue to improve in school and become an excellent student. Taco will win in several Reflections categories and become the star of the soccer field. Burrito will start Kindergarten and learn to read. He will NOT become the soccer star because he doesn't really seem to like soccer that much...maybe basketball.

Gym Rat...

He will finish his degree and get married! 'Nuff said.

Drama Queen...

She will graduate with her degree in Secondary Ed and find a nice guy to practice the scenes from Romeo and Juliet. No wedding bells, but maybe some kind of a ring???

Teach...

She will graduate with her degree in Elementary Ed, get an amazing job at her favorite elementary school where she will meet a cute single male teacher, get married within six weeks, buy a house and and work hard to fill it with cute little baby Teaches.

Dog Walker...

He will graduate from high school and become an amazing scout leader until it's time to go on a mission for our church. With his strong testimony he will be an amazing missionary!

Princess...

She will bring down the house with her performance in Sleeping Beauty, convincing dance studios everywhere that she could single-handedly revive their weakening programs...but she will stay at C&C because she loves the people there and after all, they made her what she is today. (lol) She will also start high school, earn her drivers license, turn 16 and start dating. Maybe there is even a first kiss for her somewhere in 2012. We are going to have to invest in a big stick!

Prima Donna...

With her six Reflections wins, she will advance our first entry to the National competition but just to keep her from getting too big-headed, she will only take second place.

Crafty...
She will finally be old enough to join the Young Women's group at our church. Pointe shoes have got to be part of her 2012 as will another amazing run at being the Girl Scout Cookie Queen. Who knows? She might even start looking at boys!

Sport...
After basketball, maybe baseball will be part of 2012. Defnitely a little more football, some cursive, and multiplication tables. He already likes girls, so I'm not too worried about that.

Scout...

She might become the very best reader in her class! With five entries moving on in Reflections she could easily be declared the PTA Queen or maybe the king...she much prefers cute little skirts to pants.

Curly...

A first kiss might be in his 2012 too...all the girls around here, old and young, just LOVE his curly blond hair. In the fall he will start preschool (he's already signed up!) and he can start swimming lessons and learn to ride a two-wheeler. Maybe he can teach the Drama Queen. That's one of the few skills she hasn't mastered.

Baby Doll...

Talking, running, jumping on the tramp...there are so many things for a one-year-old to learn! I can't wait to see what the new year brings for her. Hopefully not the stomach issues she has had this week...she ate Princess's little clay nativity (all non-toxic) but the diarrhea has been awful. Like they say, this too shall pass.

My Sweetie...

He will be happy and healthy and content with his job. He will be silly and attentive and paint my toenails once a month. He will also take me out to dinner and listen while I yack his ear off because women need to say about 5000 words each and every day. Hey, maybe that's why I like blogging...

Me...

I will try to update my blog at least every other day because if I keep up with every day I may just run out of stories to tell. Maybe I will sell a little Tupperware, maybe not... I guess a new baby could be part of our new year (NO, this isn't an announcement), but if the Lord is willing, we would be happy to have one more, although next month I'll be 47 so my biological clock must be ticking although since I'm so old, I can't really hear it. I will try for the ten thousandth time to be more organized, lose weight, and be more patient.  You would think after almost 30 years of setting the same New Year's goals that I might be able to accomplish ONE of them! And maybe I will even learn to troubleshoot my own computer since I've been off the network all day and I'm typing this on the laptop because my computer doesn't want to play nice.

What are your plans for 2012?

Thanksgiving Means Family

Part of our Charlie Brown Thanksgiving

I love Thanksgiving because it’s all about family for me. Remember I told you we do a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving dinner first? Prima Donna was our Peppermint Patty in her balloon turkey hat that the Drama Queen made for her. She did a lousy job with the scene so we had to send her back upstairs so she could have a do-over. The second time was much more convincing…

My sweetie made some AMAZING rolls and I’m saving the recipe for you for Friday’s Food for Thought. I really enjoyed watching him teach the Gym Rat how to make them. The Gym Rat is still trying to catch a wife and he figures becoming a good cook might help. I spent about six hours making pies on Wednesday night after Scout’s birthday party. But they were worth it! So yummy!

We had a little trauma. Scout got sick and slept through Thanksgiving dinner. It appeared that she had an infection. I tried to take her to the Instacare, but they were closed for the holiday. She was terribly afraid of the emergency room so I just gave her some antibiotics I had left over from last time (I know…wrong answer) and got her into the doctor when the holiday was over. She is feeling much better now.

I love the togetherness of the day. The kids played games and just hung out. Dog Walker couldn’t go to the gym so he bench-pressed Baby Doll.

I guess they were all full and content, because there were lots of moments like these.

And my sweet little Curly who is always full of gratitude said, “I’m grateful for my family.” AMEN!

A Spoonful of Sugar helps the Medicine go Down

I’m pretty sure I told you that Baby Doll has an ear infection. That’s another sure sign of fall. With all these kids, I rarely go a week in the winter without visiting the doctor for something or another. And Scout managed to get strep, so both girls are on antibiotics. It’s rather amazing to see the difference in their willingness to take their medicine. Baby Doll has no problem at all just chugging down whatever I give her. Maybe that’s because when she was tiny she had reflux, meaning syringes full of medicine every day.

Scout, on the other hand, hates medicine of any kind! I have finally convinced her that vitamin gummies are OK, but it took a while. The only way I can get her to swallow anything is to mask it with root beer or chocolate milk. And then I still have to threaten her with stuff I probably wouldn’t do (I can say that because she can’t really read yet). Like yesterday, even though I mixed her medicine into chocolate milk, she messed around for half an hour pretending to drink it. Finally it was time for her to leave for school. I told her that if she didn’t drink the entire cup by the time we got to the school, I wasn’t going to let her get out of the van. Three minutes later we pulled up in front of the school. She gave me a look and finally drained her cup.

She isn’t my only child with issues. I’m still not sure the Drama Queen (at age 22) can swallow a pill, and I know Prima Donna can’t. I have personally witnessed her chewing up an Ibuprofen caplet or spreading the powder from an antibiotic capsule over a tablespoon of applesauce.

But my very worst was Crafty. Even as a tiny girl, her gag reflex was so bad that any kind of medicine would just come right back up. (She even puked on the dentist once, but that's another story.) Mixing with root beer or chocolate milk didn’t help either (except that she now has a healthy hatred for chocolate milk!).

When she was three or four, she got a cold. It wasn’t long before that cold had settled in her ears. She was ornery and miserable, but refused Tylenol. I finally took her to the doctor and she confirmed a double ear infection, complete with antibiotics and numbing drops for her ears. Getting the Amoxicillin down her was brutal and even though we wedged the syringe between her teeth, she managed to gag until she brought it all back up. We were tired and frustrated, but we still hoped the numbing drops might help us get a little sleep.

My sweetie grabbed the cotton balls and the tiny bottle. As I tried to hold her in a semi-comfortable position, Crafty screamed and thrashed and pulled away. My sweetie broke the cotton ball and unscrewed the cap on the drops. As soon as he approached her ear with the bottle, sweet little Crafty started choking and gagging. Somehow she had it in her mind that she could force those drops back out of her ears…maybe we should have named HER the Drama Queen. PS I would love it if you have tips to share on how you get your kids to take the meds. I don’t think this problem is going to go away anytime soon!

PPS I guess I shouldn't have brought up the nasty phone call. It was from some random dad who also has a scout who just completed all the merit badges. He was angry with me because Nate's story is all over the web and his son's isn't. There are 153 confirmed cases of scouts who have all achieved this goal throughout the hundred years of scouting. Nate is the only one that I know of who is autistic. We are just hoping that he can inspire some of these kids with disabilities to work a little harder. In his words..."Stop slacking and get on with it!"

Fourth of July Traditions

Just like all the other holidays, our family has built a bunch of 4th of July traditions over the years. One of those traditions is our annual fireworks show. We had lots of fun last Friday with Bossy’s family setting off fireworks in the front yard! Gamer is our resident pyromaniac, so we all just got to sit back and watch the show.

I’m not sure when we started the “licorice tradition,” but every year we have to buy a couple of bags of cherry Twizzlers to enjoy with our fireworks. This year Bossy even brought over a bag of black licorice just for me. I say “just for me” not because I’m selfish, but because I’m the only one around here who will eat black licorice. Oh, my sweetie might eat one once in a while as a carnival trick for the kids, but mostly they just make fun of me, reminding me that I’m the only person in the entire world who actually LIKES black licorice.

Anyway, Bossy works for DCFS now, and because of that she HAS to be a responsible person. Her own dad calls her a “baby snatcher” when she gets irritating, but I find it a little disconcerting to have to worry about what I might say to my own daughter…. Things like “Are you going to report me if I forget to put Scout in her booster seat during the 10-block trip to the grocery store?”

So Bossy and Gamer provided our traditional fireworks and the treats this year. Except that I noticed her new responsible self didn’t bring over any sparklers. Instead they brought glowsticks. Teach took some amazing pics of the kids playing with the glowsticks. Although I must admit that they did have fun with them, it just wasn’t the same as real traditional sparklers.

When I was a kid, sparklers (any kind of fireworks, really) were banned from our house. That’s because when my dad and his brother were kids, they nearly burned down their house one year while their parents were at work by throwing a sparkler up on the roof. Grandma and Grandpa always bought sparklers for us, but we had to go over to their house and light them. We loved sparklers even more because of the covert way we all ended up at Grandma’s (even Mom came) just so we could enjoy the fourth.

When the Gym Rat was 2 ½ and Bossy was 4, we did sparklers with my sister and her kids at their apartment in Orem. Her kids were almost exactly the same ages as ours except that she has two boys. So we were lighting sparklers and my sweetie had the four little ones line up in age order, that made Bossy second and Gym Rat third. As my sweetie lighted Bossy’s sparkler, she was so excited she turned around and walked straight into the Gym Rat. The sparkler caught him just below the eye and singed a nice little line across his cheek. He screamed in pain and I scooped him up and ran inside. Ice and cold water eased the pain some, but we were just grateful that it wasn’t a little higher or it might have taken out his eye.

 But did we learn our lesson? No. We still love sparklers. We love writing our names into the blackness of the night. We love the way they sizzle when the blackened sticks land in the cold bucket of water. We love the traditions of the 4th. Now this year we have…glowsticks. So I told you yesterday that we spent the fourth at my MIL’s house, camping in her backyard. After the parade, the kids brought all their candy and dumped it into her glass candy dish. Then while we were playing games later, they passed around the dish. By that point the kids had fished out all the Tootsie Rolls and all that was left was saltwater taffy. As my MIL handed me the bowl, I commented, “Oh, I like the black ones the best!” Ten pairs of eyes looked at me in disdain. My MIL chuckled, “Well, you can have them all. Nobody likes that kind!” And I guess nobody likes sparklers either…

"You can keep the licorice, Mom!"

Princess's Miracle

I squinted at the gray screen, trying to make out the tiny arms and legs as the doctor expertly pointed to each appendage. The year was 1997 and I was only 8 weeks pregnant, so determining the sex was out of the question, but I was thrilled to see the tiny heart pounding out a snappy rendition of Jingle Bells. ‘How appropriate,’ I thought. It was Christmas Eve, and I could think of no better gift than seeing the gift of life on my doctor’s computer screen. As my sweetie and I hurried from the doctor’s office, the cold clear air sent us quickly to the car. We had a little last minute shopping to do, so we headed into the heavy traffic of downtown Salt Lake City.

Not any of my babies.

We drove several blocks to the nearest strip mall. We wanted to get home to the kids so that we could spend the afternoon together. Bossy was 13 and certainly capable of babysitting her five siblings, but still, we didn’t like to be away too long, especially on Christmas Eve. We made our way through the store, looking for something to fill the blanks on our shopping list. Before we had time to find anything suitable, my cell phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and punched the button. "Hi," I began. I knew it was the kids, because no one else had that number.

My eleven-year-old Gym Rat was hysterical. "Calm down," I nearly shouted. "What’s wrong?" I heard Bossy grab the phone. She was sobbing, "I’m so sorry, Mom…Princess was in the tub…she turned blue…she wasn’t breathing…." What was she telling me? My sweet, blond 15-month-old girl was where? My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped the phone.

Suddenly, a soothing voice of one of South Jordan’s finest came on the phone. "Ma’am? Listen to me." I tried to calm down. How could I be calm when they were telling me I’d just lost my baby? "Are you alone?" "No," I managed to choke out. "My husband is with me." "We want the two of you to drive carefully to Primary Children’s Hospital. Where are you?" he questioned. "We’re downtown," I managed. "We could be there in just a few minutes." "Settle down and drive slowly. We’re bringing your baby in on Life Flight. You’ll get there before we will."

That trip to the hospital was the longest one I have ever taken. I screamed, I cried, I tore my hair. Why did we leave her home? When we finally arrived, I was in total meltdown. Princess was not at the hospital yet, and no one knew anything of her condition. We waited for about 30 minutes before we heard the helicopter.

Moments later, we were allowed in the emergency room. Our little Princess was bloated and covered with wires and tubes. She was ice-cold, but she was breathing. Yes, she was still breathing. Our next-door neighbor showed up about the same time we did and he gave her the most beautiful priesthood blessing. Like her ancestor I told you about yesterday, that blessing appeared to make all the difference. She was transferred quickly to the pediatric ICU and hooked to all kinds of monitors. The doctors sat down with us and told us to be realistic. They didn’t think she would die at this point as long as they could warm her up carefully. The first 24 hours were critical, but if she made it through, we still had the possibility of brain damage or even physical damage. I didn’t care, I hugged her as carefully as I could, kissed her, and sobbed her name. She was still alive, and I could think of no better gift than to see the gift of life on the PICU’s monitors.

We sat with her most of the night. We couldn’t touch her because it modified her temperature. I’d never felt so helpless in my life. My grandmother came to stay with our other children. They all agreed that Christmas would wait until our little Princess could come home and share it with us. The morning’s trip to the doctor and our wonderful news of the successful ultrasound for our seventh child seemed a lifetime away.

Christmas morning dawned beautifully, even for us in the PICU. Other parents were there, sharing Christmas morning with their sick and dying little ones. Santa Claus came and brought some gifts and candy, and I couldn’t help wondering if our Princess would ever be able to play with the little stuffed animals or eat the gingerbread. Toward noon, our doctor came in to check on her. We were all exhausted and hoping for good news.

She was still under anesthesia and full of tubes and wires. Her tiny face was swollen from the IV, a respirator covered her mouth and nose, and the heart monitors dotted her little chest. The doctor picked her up and stood her right up on her feet. She moaned and opened her eyes. The doctor paused for only a moment, then he said with conviction, "She’s going to be fine, but plan on her being here at least a week." We were thrilled. No one knew how long she was under water, and with the risk of infection, she could have stayed at the hospital for weeks with respiratory problems or pneumonia.

We are all glad she is around.

Forty-eight hours later, Princess was ready to go home. It was nothing short of a miracle. Christmas morning dawned bright and early for us on December 27, 1997. The sounds of paper tearing and happy voices were never more appreciated. Princess sat weakly on my lap and carefully opened her packages. I gave her a little squeeze and blinked back the tears. I could think of no better gift than to see the gift of life…our little Princess, wrapped in her warm quilt from the hospital, snuggled in my lap on Christmas Day.


**Editor's Note: I'd just like to add that it is because my mother believes in scouting that Princess is here today. If I had not been through the CPR/first aid certification I wouldn't have known what to do when the Gym Rat pulled Princess from the tub. I had him call 911 while I started CPR. It wasn't until the paramedics were sending us to the neighbors house and I knew I had to call Mom that I became hysterical. Scouting is an excellent program and I strongly encourage anyone who babysits to become CPR certified.** 

Sock it to me!

My sweetie says we talk altogether too much about disgusting things on this blog, you know…poop, vomit, torn pants, Justin Bieber…So at the risk of offending his delicate constitution, I’ve just gotta tell you about my week! You all remember that on Monday night at FHE Curly threw up over the Justin Bieber movie. That’s not really unusual because he has asthma so when he gets too excited, everything just comes out. 

Scout at Preschool Graduation

On Wednesday, I took Scout to her Preschool Graduation. (She was so cute in her little cap and fancy dress!) They served goodies there and we all ate way too many. The day was progressing totally normal with all the craziness of a typical day at our house. Then while I was loading the dishwasher after dinner, Scout walked right up to me and puked all over my socks, the bottoms of my jeans, and the floor. I helped her undress and sent her to the shower. At that point I still wondered if maybe the goodies and snacks were just not settling well in her little tummy. 

But later that night, after most of the kids were finally snoozing in their beds, Baby Doll started heaving. We spent much of that night cleaning up after her as she struggled to keep anything down. You know how little ones are, she wanted mom/milk to help her feel better, but that really just made her feel worse. Thursday dawned bright and early and I sent the kids to school as usual. I was starting to feel a little queasy myself. It was fathers and sons weekend, so the guys were planning to go camping with a group from our neighborhood on Friday. We also had a Girl Scout sleepover planned, so we needed the house cleaned and the quilt tops made for our service project. It was not a day to sleep in. 

The baby was still sluggish and grumpy, so it was difficult to get things done. Bossy came over to help. Taco is off track so he tagged along. (Big mistake! Huge!) He and Sport hung out after school and played until Bossy picked up and headed home. After dinner, it was almost like a repeat performance…Sport came in the kitchen and puked all over the floor (he missed my socks this time), but he managed to get half of it on the counter and the side of the cupboard. I sent him to the shower and cleaned up the mess. I still had a million things to do to get everything ready, but I crashed around 2:00 a.m and figured it would all work out. 

 About 4:00 a.m., we were sort of sleeping when Sport started yelling for his dad at the top of his lungs. Seems he had thrown up again in his bedroom this time. Most of it made the bowl so the mess was fairly minor but we threw him in the shower again anyway. I rolled over with the baby and went back to sleep. About an hour later, Crafty ran from her room into the bathroom and threw up in the sink. She sat in the shower for almost an hour before I was able to get her to go back to bed. It was time to cancel the Girl Scout sleepover. Bossy called to say that the boys would not be going to fathers and sons. Taco had thrown up several times during the night. Those who were feeling decent headed off to school. 

An hour later I got a text from the Prima Donna that read, "I’m not feeling well…" My advice? "Find a bathroom and hurry!" My sweetie continued with the plans for fathers and sons without the grandsons. By the afternoon, it seemed that everything had finally settled down. We got the guys off for their campout (at the last minute Bossy decided Burrito was well and there was no reason for him to miss) and we hunkered down to tie a couple of quilts for the boys. I got a call from my sweetie. Burrito was puking everywhere. Did I want to come and get him? After settling him down and convincing him that he was a pro at cleaning up after little boys who blow chunks, we watched a movie and finally headed off to bed. 

Sometime during the night Princess ran to the bathroom and in a very graceful manner (because everything she does is graceful), emptied her stomach. The boys rolled in around 1:00 in the afternoon. They were tired and my sweetie was turning green. I sent him off to bed for the rest of the afternoon. I still don’t know how his stomach fared. (I’m afraid to ask…) While unloading the van, the Dog Walker confessed that he threw up on Friday at school, but didn’t want to ruin anybody’s fun so he didn’t tell us. 
 
Then late last night, while Bossy and I were still working on the last of Sport’s new quilt, Curly woke up and ran to the side of the quilt. It was clear what was happening. I ran one way around and Bossy hurdled herself over the quilt frame (pretty impressive, huh?) and carried him to the kitchen where I held him over the sink for the first couple of heaves. **Editor's Note: I would've stayed to help but I am very much a sympathy puker and the last thing we needed was more throw up.  When I thought he was done, I set him on the floor to strip off his clothes. Then he proceeded to throw up all over my socks…

Sport's new quilt.

Shh...Don't Tell Dad.

Last week the Dog Walker burst through the door and headed straight to the small bathroom by the mudroom. Now that isn’t a strange thing for him to do when he has been at school all day, but this time was different. I heard the pocket door of the bathroom close and then open again. He walked back into the kitchen with the goofiest grin on his face. "What?" I asked. "You’ll see," he said mysteriously, still grinning like a hyena. Then he headed off in search of his sisters. 

Disney's The Lion King

 A few minutes later they all came bursting through the kitchen and into the mudroom. Again, the pocket door closed and opened. Then a bunch of girls giggled. "Don’t tell Dad," Princess said. "He’ll have a fit," the Prima Donna agreed. That was enough for me, I headed to the mudroom. "What are you guys doing?" I asked suspiciously. The Dog Walker grinned and pulled open the pocket door. A huge picture of Justin Bieber stared back at me. This guy was taking over my world! 

Last Friday on April Fool’s Day, Princess sent me a text in the middle of the day which was pretty strange since she was at school. It read, "Look at the school’s website!" So I pulled up the site, but instead of the normal school name, it said, "South Justin Bieber School." Every window on the home page had an article or picture or announcement about Justin Bieber. Curly came wandering in while I was scrolling through the various pictures and trivia. "Who is that?" I asked him. He squinted at the screen with a thoughtful glint in his eye. "Harry Potter!" he announced. Then before I could say anything, he said, "Or Justin Bieber," then again, "Or Harry Potter…" Apparently he is the only one in the world who mixes them up. 

My 14-year-old Princess is rather smitten with Justin Bieber. The Dog Walker also thinks he is amazing...to the point that my sweetie made the name Justin Bieber a swear word in our house for a while. Uttering his name could give you an extra job. So the Dog Walker gave him the code name "JB." 

This morning I went over to Bossy’s house to take Burrito to school. (They have been having car troubles.) I clicked him into the carseat next to Baby Doll. "I want to sing her a song!" he announced. "OK," I said. He looked at me like I was totally daft. "I need some music," he said. I climbed in the driver’s seat and switched on the CD player. The Dog Walker’s CD was still in. The opening strains of JB’s "Baby," song started up. 

"That’s a good song," I said. "It’s about a baby." Burrito harumphed from the back seat. "That’s a girl song," he said. "Well, Baby Doll is a girl," I said reasonably. He snorted again. "But I can’t sing a GIRL song," he said. Just then the chorus, "Baby Baby Baby Oh," came on. "Hey!" I heard from the backseat. "Curly sings that song!" "You’re right," I said, "and he’s a boy." He let that sink in for about 10 seconds and then I heard his happy little voice singing at the top of his lungs, "Baby Baby Baby Oh!"