If You Get Squeamish Like Me, Do Not Read This Post!

You all know we are leaving on Saturday for our dream vacation. But there is always a million things to do first. One of them was to take care of the Dog Walker's big toe. He has been complaining about it for several weeks now and I've just been hoping the problem would go away...but it didn't.

Last Thursday I decided we had to do something about it before we headed out of the state and away from our regular doctor.. So I called the doctor's office and made an appointment. The Dog Walker was about to have his third surgery. He had an in-grown toenail that was NOT going to get better.

He groused about it all weekend. He alternated between happy to take care of the problem and total hysteria. It didn't help that he called the Gym Rat and asked him how his toe surgery went a few years ago. The Gym Rat told him that there was all kinds of blood and stuff and just to not look at it and he would be fine.Yeah right. Thanks, Gym Rat.

We drove over to the doctor's office together and the Dog Walker was trying hard to maintain control. We got through all the weighing and measuring and blood pressure stuff and then the doc came into the room. He carefully explained the "procedure" to us and the Dog Walker sunk down in his chair. He was done. I think if he could have run away, he would have.

They left us in the room for about 20 minutes before we were led into the "operating" room. The Dog Walker laid down on the gurney, because of course he couldn't see what was going on (again, thanks, Gym Rat). Then the doc came in and started numbing his toe. He moaned and groaned and squealed and tried to hold still, but he didn't get up and run away.

 
After the doc had pumped a sufficient amount of crap into his toe, it blew up like a balloon. I tried to get the Dog Walker to look at it, but he was having none of it. So I took a picture with my cell phone and showed it to him.

He was pretty grossed out and he had time to dwell on it for the following 20 minutes while the numbing took affect. That's when he decided maybe I could write an awesome post on his poor sad toe. (Although he was worried about how disgusting the pictures looked.)

At last the doc came back in and performed the surgery. All went well and he even got a lovely bandage to wear home.

And now he can walk all over the country without his feet hurting...OK, at least this foot.

One of Those Weeks

You ever have one of those weeks? You know the ones...where you can't even seem to find time to catch your breath? I expect those weeks when something major is going on like Christmas or a wedding and don't get me wrong, I'm not saying graduation isn't a big deal, but other than just showing up, it only took one evening. I've just had one of those random weeks when it seems impossible except that now we are nearing the end of it and I actually survived!

Monday was filled with Crafty's very first Monster Concert, so I had to drop her off at 4:00 at one of the local high schools and then show up again at 7:00 for the concert itself. Elementary band programs in Utah are typically small, so once a year they combine all the kids from all the school and have a concert. This year there were about 188 kids. Crafty has only been playing her clarinet since September so you can imagine how it all went...

Tuesday night was the first round of baseball games with my sweetie coaching Curly's team, I was coaching Scout's team, and Gamer was coaching Bean Dip's team. Games lasted until 6:30 and then we had to run to get to Pack Meeting before 7:00. I had already acquired the parts and assembled 40 catapult kits, made phone calls and distributed fliers earlier in the day. Visited the church and set up tables and chairs. Yeah, we were ready. Oh and I also had three girls with dance class so we had to work that in. After everyone finally got home about 8:30, we ate crockpot pulled pork burritos that I had been cooking all day, settled the kids for the night and then Princess and I headed out for basketball. I dragged in about 11:00, did dishes, laundry, and sent the big kids to bed. Only then did I find a few minutes to write my post.

I'm not making excuses, really, I love my few minutes to write every day, but sometimes it's hard to work it in.

Wednesday morning I took Baby Doll to the doctor for her 18-month checkup. She's fine and growing like a weed! She wasn't too happy with the three shots in her chubby little thighs. That, along with the two teeth she has coming in made her a particularly ornery girl. But with her on my lap, I managed to pull together the fundraiser orders for my girls and enter them into the computer. Sport had baseball practice, Princess had dance, Prima Donna had a Dance Concert for her Dance Team at the middle school that I couldn't possibly miss. The Dog Walker had one of his photos in the art show at the high school so after the concert I dropped Prima Donna at the church for the last few minutes of her young women's group and drove straight to Bingham. I didn't miss the prizes, but he was bummed that he didn't win anyway.




Thursday was Teach's graduation and that ate up most of the day...

Did you ever see that movie called Overboard with Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell? In one of the scenes there is a moment when she is so totally overwhelmed that she is beyond functioning. But Kurt Russell has no sympathy. He simply picks her up and throws her in the rain barrel. The crazy thing is that it works! She is able to move on with her tasks that need to be done.

Anybody got a rain barrel? I just may need to borrow one.

DARE Graduation

In our school district they have a program called DARE that helps the kids make a decision early on to avoid drugs and alcohol. Crafty graduated from that program yesterday. Curly was so excited to see the DARE car when we were walking in to the school! Nobody is EVER allowed to park that close to the front doors!

The fifth-graders filed into the gym and took up the three front rows. Crafty ended up on the opposite side from us so we could hardly see her.

After all the proper introductions and thank yous, they introduced the six essay contest winners. One boy and one girl from each of the three classes read their essays. I already knew Crafty didn't win, but after I heard the essay by the girl in her class, I was not a bit surprised. I don't think anyone could have written a more touching essay. This little girl's mom died of an accidental prescription drug overdose several years ago. She had gone to the dentist and she was in pain and she mixed a couple of painkillers that shouldn't have been and she just didn't wake up.

I remember when that happened. She was in Crafty's class then too. The kids were devastated to think that a young mom of one of their own just died when she wasn't even sick!
DARE is such a good program for these kids. Most of them are so sweet and naive at this age they have no idea what can happen to them.

I am so proud of Crafty for making a pledge to stay drug-free. Now if I can just figure out a way to get them all a ride in that awesome car!

Birth Story - Sport

 Drum roll please...

Here we have it! Finally, the last birth story and it belongs to Sport. The year was 2003. Bossy was just finishing up her Associates degree at Snow College. The other kids were scattered throughout the various schools in our district. The Dog Walker was 9 years old and after three sisters, he was just dying for a baby brother. He was so convinced he was right that I even took him with me to the ultrasound. I figured he might believe the doctor more than me. Thankfully, it didn't have to be a big deal. All pictures properly indicated "boy," although the Dog Walker thought he looked more like a monkey.

I was SOOO uncomfortable with this pregnancy! It was the first time I had experienced sciatica and that along with the bursitis in my hip made it almost impossible to sleep. I tried everything to get comfortable. The thing that worked best was building a little "house" of pillows with two behind my head and on on each side. Then I would slip one between my knees. That almost worked...

Dog Walker and Sport

 
As with the previous three sisters, the doctor scheduled an induction about a week early. It was June and the weather had been unseasonably hot. It was surprising to wake up to cool and rainy., but we reported at the hospital just before 7:30 a.m. as instructed. Unfortunately, when we got there, they had no room for us, so we sat in the waiting room for about an hour.

After that we got started and the nurses were pleased to find that I was already dilated to 3 cm. Sometimes I've been asked why in the world I am at the hospital...come back next week, so that was good news. The anesthesiologist arrived just in time to keep me from feeling even one real labor pain.

In fact, things were going so well they actually had to turn the Pitocin DOWN to keep me from delivering before I had finished the required doses of antibiotics. When the final drops pumped their way in from the second bag, they upped the Pitocin again and my little Sport came really fast. Thankfully, this was NOT one of the times the nurses refused to get the doctor there on time. He halted things for only a moment as he unwrapped the cord from Sport's neck (that was a little scary!) and one push later was all it took. I didn't even have to push a second time since he slipped out all by himself.

The nurses all ooo'd and aah'd over his beautiful blond hair. It was quite long for such a little guy. We spent the next couple of weeks listening to people gush about how beautiful Sport was. He'd probably be a little embarrassed to know about that now.

We had our typical jaundice scare and he had to visit the doctor every day for the first three days. Fortunately, he didn't have to go under the lights. We were so glad to finally have him home!

The Dentist

I grew up visiting the dentist once a year. Dad had pretty good insurance through the school district, so Mom made sure we always got our checkups. You all know I grew up in small-town Utah, so when it came to having someone drill our teeth, there was only one game in town...Doc __. I absolutely remember his name, but I'm leaving it off on purpose and I'll tell you why.

I never like the smell of the dentist's office, but not the same way I dislike it now. As a kid, our dentist's office smelled like alcohol...and I don't mean the rubbing kind! He was generally pretty drunk when he was working on our teeth.

I was about 9 or 10 years old the first time I had a tooth pulled. It was pretty decayed and the dentist said it would fall out soon anyway. So we scheduled a time and when that day came around, Mom wasn't able to go with me for some strange reason. The dentist's office was about 2 blocks from my house and since it was in the mid 1970s, no one even considered that I might not be safe. I walked over by myself, sat in the 6-seater waiting room, and when it was my turn, I climbed in the chair.

I was not happy! Doc numbed me up (or so he thought) and then waited for a few minutes for the medicine to kick in. Then he started twisting and yanking. When I protested...LOUDLY!...he gave me another shot of Novocaine and a few more minutes. When he came back, he again pulled out the pliers. I wiggled and squirmed while he assured me there would be no pain. (He was wrong!)

When he was finally finished, he handed me a little envelope with my tooth in it. He had packed my jaw with gauze since it kept seeping blood everywhere. I bit hard on that little cotton roll, grabbed the envelope and literally ran out of the office. Tears streamed down my face and I promised myself I would never step foot in that torture chamber again. At least I had the reassurance that the tooth fairy would be visiting later. I opened the tiny envelope and peaked inside. That tooth was broken in half from the effort of pulling it and it still had two long roots that had stubbornly refused to leave my mouth.

We love our pediatric dentist now! He does a great job with the kids. Baby Doll had her first checkup this week. Scout and Curly also visited with the dentist and neither one had any cavities. Curly was very cooperative, but Scout did NOT want her teeth brushed. I guess I'm the meanest mom ever, because I insisted they brush her teeth even though she would have been more than happy to just leave. Maybe it's the way I was raised, but you don't get out of the dentist's chair without experiencing a little pain...and the smell of alcohol.