My kid is being admitted to Childrens Hospital on Monday...so I sent her to school

Yeah.

In an unprecedented move by, let's see, oh yes... me, I actually sent The Toots to school this week despite the fact something is still wrong with her little body, despite the fact that she is scheduled to be admitted, AGAIN, to Childrens on Monday, and despite the fact that I have not sent her to school since before Christmas due to her basically being sort of, well, unwell all winter.

I don't know what to tell you. Something is not right with my Toodle Bug and we spent eight days back in January with her in Childrens trying to figure that out. And then she got super sick, luckily while in the hospital, and the docs thought they finally found the culprit during a bone scan.

Two months later, even though she is still on antibiotics, "something wicked this way comes." That little phrase from Shakespeare's Macbeth is probably a bit melodramatic but it's how I am feeling at the moment.

Melodramatic and pissy. And tired. So very, very tired. Which of course leads me to feeling even more melodramatic.

Wah wah wah

I hate whining and that is totally what I am doing right now. If I were one of my kids, I would be threatening myself with chores or not being allowed out to stop my bad attitude but, too bad so sad I guess. It's my party and I'll cry if I want to.

Except I abhor crying... even more than whining because it inevitably gives me a migraine and it makes me look just terrible and everyone sees me and assumes something is REALLY wrong, not just the normal wrong so, no, I won't cry. I'll stick to whining. Thank you very much.

And now, because I have whined so much, I can't even remember why I started this post. See, kids, this is what whining will get you.

NOWHERE!

There, I feel better. I got to whine AND give a very valuable life lesson about what that will get you in the process. Right???

Anyway, this post is dumb. I was going to write about how proud of myself I was for letting Tess go to school again even though I really didn't want to but got lost (as I'm sure you wish you had been able to do before getting sucked in to this very boring post) somewhere in the middle.

What can I say except the thought of spending an untold number of days and nights in the hospital, eating yucky food and 'sleeping' on fold out chairs while watching numerous people poke and prod and radiate The Toots (and hoping they find the problem but that it won't be a bad problem) all the while worrying that we won't get home in time for Easter does not put me in very good humor.

And just like that, I am whining again. Me thinks it's time to go do a chore...

Tessie playing with the jingle bells at school

And playing the drums

BFF's

"A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world."
~Leo Buscaglia

Tess had a play date yesterday. Usually when kids are around Tess, or even here at her house, they will play with her sporadically or when urged to do so by their parents. But inevitably they end up playing with any other kid who happens to be here, or even by themselves in Tessie's room. They aren't purposely ignoring her but simply lose interest in a kid who can't really play with them in the traditional sense. It can be hard to watch at times, especially when it is so obvious that Tess loves to have other kids in the house, and even more happy when they are in her room.

But yesterday was different. Miss Addie came for a visit with Sonya. And basically didn't want to leave. She hopped in the chair with Tess, brought any toy that wasn't battery operated (because I am not exactly the best at remembering to get new batteries), watched a movie with her, played a game on Sonya's phone with her, and yes, decided that this would be the ultimate house to play "doctor" in given all the handy supplies.

Doctor Addie with her patient




In short, Addie gave Tess one of the best days of her little life.

It didn't matter that Tess couldn't talk. Addie did all the talking. Or that Tess couldn't walk. Addie simply brought everything to her. No problem.

Although breathing did become a bit of an issue at times....for Addie. Tess would snuggle in so close to her that she was practically cutting off the poor girl's oxygen.

You can see how far over Tess has leaned to get close to Addie...before long, Addie was almost falling off the side of the chair


Addie took it all in stride. Except ya know, to hint every now and again that maybe we could move Tess just a little so that she could actually breathe.

So they played. All afternoon. Toys that were still unopened from Christmas got ripped into and put together with only a slight admonishment for me from Addie for not opening them yet. And I heard quite a bit about my lack of batteries for all the toys that needed them.

Before long Addie had decided it would be just great to spend the night. Sonya, not so much. But we did get a good laugh out of watching our girls together.

At one point Addie told me she wished that she and Tess could be sisters.

For now she'll have to settle for BFFs. But sometimes, best friends are just as good.

The Silent Queen...

Once upon a time, in a land far, far, far, oh so very, very far away, there lived a Queen.

This Queen was kind, loving, and full of light and laughter. Everyone in the Kingdom worshipped her. But this Queen was different from any Queen who had ever ruled.

She never spoke a word.

This might lead one to wonder how such a Queen could rule effectively but the truth was, though she was silent with her words, by the tinkle of a laugh or the furrow of her brow, everyone knew how she was feeling. And because this Queen was so beloved, her subjects would do anything to make her happy. In fact, they were all putty in her tiny little hands. Yet she never abused that power.

Well....almost never.

The Queen had only one demand that must be followed immediately and without complaint.

She must have her favorite movie whenever, and wherever, the mood happened to strike. Which was pretty much every single time her eyes were open.

Oh, how her Kingdom began to hate that movie. Sometimes they would even pretend not to notice the Queen's scowl when they tried to watch a different movie but it was no use. The Queen would become so displeased that she would bang her arm down on her throne and refuse to look at any of her subjects even when they would promise her that they would put her movie on for her later.

"NOW!", the Queen would silently "shout" as her brows shot together and arched upward and her lips turned down in obvious fury.

The Queen is clearly displeased because her subjects have not flipped down the DVD screen in her Royal Chariot to show her movie and is now refusing to acknowledge them



And when her subjects would try to distract and cajole her with kisses and bribes of toys, the Queen would dismiss them with a flap of her hand and a roll of the eyes.

But the Queen's subjects could not stand to see her unhappy. Even for a moment. For their Queen had been through so much in her life that surely she should be able to have something that brought her so much joy! So her subjects would rush to put on her movie and soothe her inflamed temper and wounded feelings.

And as the opening credits rolled, The Queen smiled her approval and acknowledged her subjects with a regal, if not slightly coy, batting of her beautiful brown eyes.

The Queen is pleased



All is forgiven they seemed to say. But do not test me again.

Yes, my Queen.

Conversations from a Hospital...

Last week was awful. No beating around the bush. It just plain sucked.

Tess was admitted to Boston Children's Hospital to try to find out why she had spent the previous five weeks looking and feeling like crap.

Naturally, for the first two days, The Toots laughed and giggled, even when being poked with IV needles, to the point where I just know all the docs were questioning my sanity. And quite frankly, so was I. Let's face it, sick little girls just don't act that happy.

Or do they?

Day three. Tess awoke with a fever of 101.5 which rose over the next two hours to 103. 3 even with Motrin and Tylenol in her system. And I had the proof I needed to say, "Told you so!", even though the docs had been awesome and never made me feel like I was a freak for bringing a seemingly healthy kid in for a full work up. And while I must admit it was a relief for her to finally show them that she was indeed sick, it was a hollow victory as, over the next two days, she became so sick that even the two separate teams of specialists that were providing her care, became very concerned.

So Tess was scheduled for an MRI of the brain, ultra sound of her belly, chest xray and bone scan. Pronto.

And just like that, Bingo. The bone scan lit up an area of concern. It looked like she had an osteomyelitis (bone infection) in her left ankle/tibia. The question was, how did she get it? Trying to find an answer, another MRI, this time of her pelvis and ankle was ordered, along with xray of same area and CT scan of belly (to rule out possible GI infection).

I took this picture Sunday night when Tess started looking a little better


Once the docs were positive of what they were dealing with they very quickly brought out the big guns of antibiotics. They had done a MRSA swab of Tess since the chances of her having MRSA were very high given the number of hospital stays she has had in her life along with the bone infection which apparently, often times, is a MRSA infection. The upside to this? Tess was immediately put under precautions which meant a private room. The down side? By Friday night I was starting to think we were losing her. I have never, ever, seen her so sick.

She had not responded to really anything in going on 36 hours. They were still struggling to keep her temperature below 103, her heart rate was up to 170, and to top it off she had had an allergic reaction to the antibiotic they had given her. Due to the seriousness of the infection, the docs decided the allergic reaction was better than actually taking her off of the antibiotic because she was so sick. They needed to get it into her and fast.

Around 11:00pm Friday night, I had the doctor paged out to come to her room to look her over. Again. I had seriously started questioning whether or not I would be leaving this hospital without The Toots. I don't think I have ever been so scared for her. The doctor came right in and reassured me that, yes, although things were very serious, Tess was holding her own and there still was more they could do if they felt it necessary.

By the next morning Tess was still very sick but I could see a small improvement and by Sunday, she looked even better and her MRSA tests had come back and luck seemed to be on our side because they were negative which meant the docs could change the antibiotic to something less harsh on Tessie. The PICC team came in (a picc is long, slender, small, flexible tube that is inserted into a peripheral vein, typically in the upper arm, and advanced until the catheter tip terminates in a large vein in the chest near the heart to obtain intravenous access**info taken from picclinenursing.com**) to insert the line so that I could take her home and she would still be able to get her IV antibiotics every 8 hours.

Needless to say, I have learned how to administer the antibiotics through the picc and take care of it (because you have to be super careful to keep it sterile because you DO NOT want an infection in that line as it goes close to the tip of the heart...yeah, no pressure there) and the docs felt that by Monday, which would have been day 8 in the hospital, she was well enough to be released. We went to Sheila's in the hopes of making an early morning boat home the next day.

Tessie leaving the hospital and yes, that big cart behind her with the balloons is all her stuff


Then on Tuesday she spiked a small fever so phone calls flew back and forth between her pediatrician and Boston and more blood work was ordered and finally, on Wednesday, we got the green light to bring her back to the island. Of course, we need more blood work done tomorrow, then Monday and another follow up appointment in Boston on Wednesday so we are still very early into the recovery portion of the program. But she is recovering. Thank God.

She will be on IV antibiotics for at least six weeks (They are guessing. It could be as long as eight weeks) and will have to go the the mainland at least once a week during that time for dressing changes and blood work. But that's okay. She's home and on the mend.

Which, believe it or not, leads me to the title of this post. As the hubby was in the hospital elevator on his way to The Toot's room, he struck up a conversation with the man next to him. This man told the hubby, "If all goes well tonight, by tomorrow morning my son will have a new heart."

Sort of puts things into perspective, doesn't it?

Home Sweet Home...

It was not on our anniversary but about ten days later when we did it...

Now get your minds out of the gutter. I'm talking about when we moved into our new, twelve year old house on East Boston Road.

Thanks in very large part to my dad, my mom, Kris, Bobby, and Margaret Qualey (the whirling dervish who showed up on moving day with an offer of help and a can-do attitude and who can paint a wall and take apart a bed, couch or table then lug said item DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS and throw into the back of a pick up truck faster than I could type this) we got moved in and even semi-settled all in a day. And a few days later Tracy came to help with things I hadn't gotten to yet.

And I also have to give a huge, gigantic, forever-indebted, THANK YOU to Johnny Davis who, about seven months ago or so, showed up one day to offer to help Charlie and proceeded to show up every day after that to work on plumbing, heating, and anything else that needed doing simply as a friend to the hubby. Were it not for him, we would still be talking about someday living here instead of actually being here. There were times when we had to be on the mainland for one thing or another and he would still show up and work on our house. We would come back to the island to find that he had painted The Toot's bedroom, or gotten the toilet hooked up, or any one of a million things that needed doing that he took upon himself to get done.

Of course, the kids and I now joke about his and Charlie's "bro-mance". Last week, when I was away with The Toots, Blake snapped this little shot of them having dinner together (she added the romantic touch of candle light for them). When I confronted asked Johnny and the hubby about it they both laughed and Johnny even went so far as to tell me he had told the hubby, "I thought she would never leave!". They both thought they were so hysterical (the hubby thought I would appreciate the irony/insult of them eating the beef stew I had made the night before) but I must admit, it was quite funny.

(don't they make a cute couple??)

Anyway, here I am. In my new digs. It doesn't quite feel like home yet. I've never moved before so I have no idea how long the period of adjustment tends to last. Ellie felt like she was home right away. Blake and the hubby tend to feel like I do. The Toots had a whopping seizure at 3:00 a.m. on the first night we were here so I am guessing she felt out of place as well. Although she just adores her pink room. (and yes, she picked out the color, not me).

Here are a few photos of the entry, living room, kitchen and fireplace, Tessie's room as well as the upstairs hallway and the view from the deck up there. I left out the older girl's rooms, our bedroom and the bathrooms because they are private. I also left out the office because it is a total mess! There is still quite a bit left to do (mop boards, stair railing, scraping down all those big doors you see that, by the way, came out of the Union Church which I think is very cool, etc.) but I love it.

(the entry)

(Kitchen..the island is one of my favorite parts of the house)

(dining/fireplace/kitchen)

(fireplace area...another favorite part of the house)

(tessie's room)

(Toot's room again)

(love love love the driftwood sign Kris made for Tessie)

(living room)

(living room)

(upstairs hallway)

(sunset..pretty sweet view)

(CHRISTMAS!!!) only photo I took though :(

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Tess has been sick with something since the week before Christmas.

Note the word "something".

We have taken her to the medical center, the island dentist, her pediatrician, Childrens Hospital (again, dentistry), and back to her pediatrician several more times (along with untold number of phone calls to him or his nurse which resulted in him just giving me his pager number). Oh, and let's not forget the countless dental xrays, then there was a fluoroscopy, blood draw and urine test.

And today we go again to see her pediatrician and, chances are very high, more blood tests and xrays.

What is wrong? We have no idea. And yes, I am getting scared. I wasn't at first, figuring it was just another virus or bacterial infection that The Toots seems to get just by hearing someone mention the words, "I think I am coming down with something." But this is different. It FEELS different to me. And naturally, I can't describe in what way except to say the Tessie knot in my stomach is talking to me...loudly.

I have been going over it and over it and over it. Searching the web (always good for a terrifying time) and talking nonstop to her home health nurse trying to figure this out.

It started with what we thought was an abscess on one of her top molars. The left side of her face was very swollen and she had a low grade temperature. Due to her having a compromised immune system it was considered somewhat of an emergency for fear the infection would spread. We immediately took her to her "boyfriend" AKA, Doc Stephenson, and he put her on very strong antibiotics after consulting with Boston and then sent us home under strict instructions that he would be sending her to Boston if her fever went up at all or she seemed any worse. And bonus, they didn't see an abscess but she could still have one or it could be something totally unrelated. No idea what though.

Christmas was stressful to say the least. I was on constant alert. Poor Tess just couldn't get away from my constant feeling of her forehead or, gasp, shoving a thermometer up her bum to get an accurate temperature reading. Not to mention asking every person I saw, "Do you think her cheek looks more swollen?".

But, we got through it and even made it to Boston to see the dentist there. She took another xray, peeked in her mouth and promptly told me she was going to extract one of her molars because it was impacted...to the point that it had literally eaten away at the tooth in front of it almost to the roots.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

Remember my last lovely post? You see where I am going with this right? What is it with teeth problems in my house????

Then she called Doc Stephenson and they discussed how the tooth, although a problem in it's own right, is not "THE PROBLEM". No signs of an abscess after all. Which was good and bad. Good because that is one problem ruled out, bad because of the multitude of other problems it could be.

So now, we are on week 4 of antibiotics that don't seem to be treating anything and non stop worry.

She still has a low grade fever. She is still exhausted ninety-five percent of the time. Oh, and just a little side note here, just for fun she is now dropping her heart rate at random and then having it jump back up from too low (for her) to too high (for anyone). And because God loves to laugh at my expense, she is also dropping her oxygen stats to a worrisome number when she is asleep resulting in many alarms and my impending heart attack or trip to the nut house, whichever happens first. Then there is the swelling in her right foot. How very random.

Did I mention there are moments during the day when she seems fine? And this usually happens when we are at a doctors appointment so that Tess can prove to them that I really am crazy and am just making up all the stuff about her not feeling well (I told Sheila today that I feel like one of those Munchausen Syndrome mothers). At least that is what it is starting to feel like.

OH. MY. GOD.

So, to sum up class, Tess could be sort of sick but in essence, okay, or she could be in some real trouble. It's anyone's guess. At this point, my gut is saying the latter but is that because I have such good instincts or have I simply lost all perspective and at this point would be prone to overreacting if she had a hang nail? Again, it's anyone's guess but on this particular question, the hubby would tell you the latter.

When I asked her doctor how worried I should be about what is going on, he said that while he wouldn't use the word worried, he did admit to being "unnerved" and said his "...noggin was full of Tessie girl."

I wanted to say, "Welcome to my world.", but all I was really thinking was "Oh shit" and that didn't seem like an appropriate response to say to your child's doctor. But you know what?

Oh shit.

A little Wisdom and Whine...

I have had a very unpleasant toothache the past three weeks or so.

It started with just a simple pinging every now and again and soon developed into a full blown, pulsating throbbing that got worse every time I ate or drank. Anything.

Needless to say...EASIEST DIET EVER!! (Well, next to the cancer one I went on about six years ago but no one except me seems to think that little joke is funny)

I've lost nearly ten pounds in these last few weeks. And I wasn't even trying. This excites me.

The pain? Not so much.

After three or four days of pain, I decided denial was not going to work in this instance and broke down and called Dr. Barbour at Glen Cove Dental (well, since I officially did not have a dentist I called any damn person who was willing to see me the next day and he was the lucky duck with an available slot). They very kindly fit me in the next morning so I packed up The Toots and headed for Sheila's.

I need to brag a bit here because getting us both ready and packed in under two hours is nothing short of a miracle.

Here is what I got done in those two hours (I must tell you because I am still so utterly impressed with myself).

As I said, I still needed to shower and get dressed. Since I was home alone with Tessie, I very quickly showered, ran to check on her, ran to get dressed, threw on some clothes, checked on her again, went back to blow dry hair, ran back to check on her again, then got on my make up and back to check on Toots.

Next was the packing. My stuff was easy. One bag. Done. Back to check on Toots. Then on to packing for her. Ready? Here goes:

*Bag for nebulizer, nebulizer meds, oximeter, and cords and probes for oximeter.
*Bag for diapers, wipes, and chuck pads
*Bag for clothes and extra clothes
*Bag that holds portable suction
*Bag with cans of Keto powder, cans of polycose and salt to mix her food. This bag also needs to have cord for feeding pump, food bags, syringes, extensions for gtube, gram scale for weighing and measuring her food when I mix it, an extra gtube button kit should her's get pulled out, and two extra oxygen tanks.
*Jump bag that has all her emergency meds and oxygen in it for seizures.
*Bag for daily meds, gauze pads and ointment for stoma, and trivial items like brushes, shampoo, etc.

Add Baby Tad and me running to check on Tess about a zillion more times and I think that just about covers it. Then I needed to get The Toots dressed. And bonus, she decided that it was the perfect time to totally let loose and managed to get, well, crap, from one end of her little body to the other. Good times. Good times.

Anyway, See why I was impressed I managed to get all that done and get packed quickly while in pain no less?

The next morning I saw Dr. Barbour and he basically told me that I needed to get rid of two wisdom teeth and a molar. The molar was what was causing the pain. I believe his exacts words were, "Not good, Joanna. This is not good." Then he did what he could to get me out of pain.

I then had to confess that I had not seen a dentist regularly for about five years because the one I used to see got very upset with me when I canceled appointments that I couldn't make because Tess was either sick or had appointments that conflicted with mine. This certain jerk-off told me that I needed to make his appointments a priority and basically learn how to schedule Tessie's better. And he was very angry when he said that to me, as he was doing a root canal on me and I was crying because he was such a jerk. So I never went back.

I explained all this to Dr. Barbour along with the fact that it would probably happen with his office too because I don't have a lot of control over when Tess gets sick or has appointments.

So he gave me a hug and told me I would never be treated like that by him. Then he apologized for the other dentist being such an ass. So naturally, even though I very much disliked the whole, "you need three teeth extracted pronto" message, I loved Dr. Barbour.

I told him I would make the appointment with the oral surgeon but could I do it after Christmas? He said I could try but he didn't really think that I would make it that long with no pain.

And he was right on the money. After about three days the pain was back but sort of in a different spot so I thought something else was up. I called Dr. Barbour, got to talk to him, explained my predicament and that I had a nurse who could stay with Tess if he could fit me in the next day so he called another patient to switch their appointment, and voila, I was in. Of course, the whole packing up Tess quickly went into effect. Lucky for me I was too lazy busy to really unpack much from the prior week's adventures in dentistry.

He basically told me I needed to get that tooth out. Now.

Silly me. I thought, even as he said that, that I could tough it out for a couple more weeks.

Turns out, I'm not that tough. Fast forward a week...

I got slid in at the oral surgeon's for an emergency consult last Thursday and when I met with Dr. Battell I basically asked her if there was any possible way to do it right then. I went on to explain that I has a nurse for Tess so it would be so helpful to just get it over with. She agreed. But without sedation because she didn't have enough time in her schedule for that part.

Now I am a horrible baby when it comes to the dentist. I get all panicky and shaky under the best of circumstances so this was a bit of a blow. I asked about laughing gas and she said that I should be fine with just that and some novocaine.

I won't get into all the gory detail but you know how they call it laughing gas? Well, I wasn't laughing. And I lost count of the number of shots of Novocaine I needed.

However, I was in and out in under an hour and Dr. Battell was very, very kind and as gentle as that type of procedure can be. Which basically means she beat the hell out of the inside of my mouth but was so nice about it that I didn't hate her for doing it.

I am almost all healed up now. The pain has been very manageable with Advil and ice and hopefully this little bump in the road is over for now.

And because this post was basically stupid and rambling, yet you've loyally read to the end, I will leave you with this little dental joke:

"Open wider," requested the dentist, as he began his examination of the patient. "Good God!" he said startled. "You've got the biggest cavity I've ever seen -- the biggest cavity I've ever seen." "OK Doc!" replied the patient. "I'm scared enough without you saying something like that twice." "I didn't!" said the dentist. "That was the echo."

Where are you Christmas?

I am in quite the quandary people. Or, as my Auntie would say (shout out Auntie Lucy!), "In a bit of a pickle."

*side note here: That little saying is part of an inside joke between us and never, ever fails to make me smile because the events that transpired in order for her to first utter those now infamous words were hilarious. Got you wondering now, don't I?*

But back to my elusive point.

I ALWAYS have my house decorated for Christmas by now. Not necessarily the outside lights because I hate doing those and therefore con the hubby into doing it on my birthday/day after our anniversary as part of my "present" because I am evil like that.

The girls and I, (well, okay, the girls because I have a bad back, remember?) get out the decs from the attic as I suggest give the orders as to the best places to put them.

And I have some really awesome Christmas decorations people.

Like my Christmas Village that lights up AND has a train. The Bean is usually in charge of putting that up. So what if it is really a cheap one that was bought on sale for half off at JCPenny and now sports a few nicks and some broken church steps? I LOVE it and that is what counts.

Then there is my snow globe collection. I only have maybe 5 or 6 of them but I consider it a collection.

My favorite one is of the manger scene with Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus and plays "Oh Holy Night" when you twist the little twisty-key thingy. It is probably my most favorite Christmas decoration because when Ellie was only 5 and I was about three months pregnant with The Toots, she gave the hubby very strict instructions on what she needed him to get for her to give me as a Christmas present.

It HAD to have the manger scene AND play Oh Holy Night! And after going to nearly every store at the Maine Mall, the hubby finally found it in Macys. And naturally paid and arm and a leg for it but it was EXACTLY what Ellie had requested. Then she gave it to me on December 23rd because I had been sick in bed with a migraine and she thought it would make me feel better. Love it, love it, love it.

Then there are my family Christmas stockings that Gram knit for everyone. They have our names and a Christmas scene knit into each one. They also hold an unbelievable amount of presents. Pure awesomeness.

There also are all the other little Gram-made decorations. Stuffed felted Santas, table runners, fir filled scented pillows, crocheted tree ornaments complete with photos of us and the girls, and one very small stuffed stocking that is supposed to read "ho ho ho" but, because she didn't notice when she made it that the material was upside down, reads "oh, oh, oh".

It is funny to us because she made it for me the year that I was diagnosed with cancer and we realized The Toots was not developing normally thus we deemed it fitting that it should read "oh oh oh" instead anyway (yes, we all can appreciate sick humor in my family). I still crack up over it when I hang it up on my door knob.

But why the quandary you might be wondering? Well folks, it seems as though we may actually be moving. Yup, our house on East Boston Road, the hubby's Magnum Opus if you will, will finally be ready for us to live in.

While it will not be completely finished off, it will be done enough to move in to. For Christmas. That is the plan as of right now anyway. The hubby is working like a mad man between his "real jobs" and the house so that we can be in it for the holidays.

Or to be more exact, our anniversary. December 5th. (I wonder if that means no outside Christmas light chores "presents" for me this year?

We are not sure yet if we will make it. But we are hopeful. Enough so that I do not want to put up my Christmas decorations here only to have to repack them and then put them back out there.

Which leaves me feeling at very loose ends Christmas-wise.

As of right now, there is one small pitiful little Charlie Brown-esque tree that is sitting on my wood stove and some white twinkle lights that I leave up all year long in my Kitchen and on a floor plant.

This just does not work for a girl who loves all things Christmas and has been listening to Christmas music since September.

I feel like my decorations are sitting up there in the attic talking amongst themselves and saying things like, "Why aren't we out on display yet? Doesn't she love us anymore? What have we done wrong?"

You know, sort of like Toy Story (where the toys all come alive when no one is looking) only with Christmas decorations.

Don't worry my little decorations. Your time IS coming...

Are you ready to RUUUMMMMBBBLLLEEE???...

Nana and Papa stopped by tonight for a little visit.

Now Tess hasn't had an arm-wrestling throw down with her Papa in quite a while. But the timing was right. She was in peak physical condition and mentally ready. When Papa's big paw grabbed her little hand she knew no fear. Only the thrill of his impending doom.

And she set out, once again, to prove that she is still the "arm-wrestling champion of the world!".

Enjoy. I know I did....

You're never too old to Trick or Treat...

Halloween is over! Yay! I am not a fan of Halloween in that I think it is a gigantic pain in the butt, the decorations aren't pretty and cheery (like say, Christmas ones) and the endless candy eating is no friend to my aforementioned butt.

The one saving grace about Halloween for me? My kids still get into it.

Blake went to school dressed as a Zebra. She looked cute but it wouldn't exactly have won costume of the year. Ellie dressed up as a Woodland Fairy Princess and looked cute as well, though again, not enough oomph in the costume for my liking.

So when Blake told me she was going trick or treating with a few of her friends, naturally I was suspicious. I mean, let's face it, four Seniors out trick or treating doesn't particularly sit well with me mainly because as any good parent, I didn't believe that was ALL they were really going to go do. Blake is a very good kid but that doesn't mean I don't question her every time she goes out.

Plus, come on, Seniors do not go trick or treating. They just don't. So what were they REALLY going out to do? I outright refused to let her out at first, then when I finally relented, gave her a curfew that a ten year old would have laughed at. So I relented I tiny bit on that as well because as Blake so astutely pointed out, she was a good kid, always obeyed my rules, got good grades and basically does what she is told to do.

Damn, I hate when her logic crushes my overly dramatic imagination. Okay, but I made her swear on my life they were really just going trick or treating. There would be no booze and no vandalism, aka egging or TP'ing others or other's property.

I SWEAR MOM! WOW!!!

I had her repeat who was going, again, and since those kids are all, well, basically awesome, I gave her the go ahead.

Then got a little too control-y with her choice of costume. I told her if she was going to embarrass me by trick or treating at 17 years old, then she at least needed to look badass. And yes, I actually used the word badass with her. I know, I know, bad mother, bad mother.

So I rounded up things to whip out a pirate costume for her and between that and her bestie, Izza, she looked awesome. I was quite proud.

Then it was time to get The Toots ready. And guess what? She was a pirate too because let's face it folks, you don't get much more badass than my Toodle Bug. Plus, she sometimes gets this certain little smile and it totally looks like a pirate saying, "ARRRGH!!" Love it.

And while Ellie did not actually participate in the trick or treating, she did something so scary I can barely speak of it.

She started Driver's Ed. *cue window shattering, bone chilling scream*

As in previous years, we loaded up the Dread Pirate Toodle Bug and took her to my dad and Ann's to help hand out candy to other trick or treaters. Four of whom turned out to be her sister and friends. Yup, they pulled up in a Suburban and came in for a photo op. Now is it just me or do you think that if you are capable of legally driving yourself around in a vehicle, perhaps you are just a tad too old for trick or treating?

But they are just such a good bunch of kids that I ended up being proud that they had the heart, and at their age, the cajones, to go do it. And not be embarrassed at all. Just having a blast all together getting to be little kids again. And you know what? There is a whole hell of a lot worse things they could have been out doing.

And the best part? Blake was home even before the first, ten year old curfew that I gave her. When she got home I noticed she had upgraded her choice of hat. When I asked her about it her response was, "I left a Captain and came home a Commodore!"

That's my girl...

Always leave 'em laughing....

I've written about my eldest daughter, Blake in previous posts. Smart, funny, gorgeous, athletic, happy, kind, well, you get the picture. But Blake does have a secret. An achilles heel if you will. One could even go so far as to call it a...flaw? perhaps.

Blake absolutely, positively cannot stand to be in a hospital.

When people hear that they are always surprised. I guess because they assume that since Tess has spent so much time in hospitals, that Blake would have put in her fair share of visiting hours. But in reality, Blake has only been one time to the hospital to visit Tessie. And no, not because she doesn't care. Of course she cares. She loves The Toots with all her heart but she has always been really busy with sports, drama and school and it isn't as though the hospital is ten minutes away. It is an ocean away. Literally. And often times, a couple of States away. So it just didn't happen.

Except for last winter. You may remember me writing about The Toots being hospitalized with Influenza B and pneumonia. She spent 6 days in Special Care, hooked up to oxygen nearly the whole time, seizing, and just generally scaring the ever loving crap out of me. I am not exaggerating when I say that was one of the first times I honestly thought we might lose her. It was that bad.

But The Toots is made of sterner stuff (thank God) and rallied. After a few days I thought she looked well enough to see her sisters and they really wanted to come see her. I figured a visit from them would cheer her up immeasurably and do her as much good as the meds being fed into her little body from the IV. And bonus, The Bean and Bob-bay were also coming to visit.

When the kids got there they had to put on masks and wash and Purell their hands before getting near The Toots. Then they filed in on either side of her bed. She was happy to see them but too sick to really show it. Ellie and Bean were laughing and giggling as only those two birds can when they're together while I noticed Blake sort of backing off just a bit. Hmmmm....

And then she started a small freak out. "Mama, Tess looks really bad! Is she going to be okay? She really doesn't look good!"

And there was really no time to answer her because Blake was rambling on and on chirping like a maniacal bird in a tree. "How can you stand it here?! How can you stand being trapped in here day after day?! I feel like I'm going to puke or something! I really don't like being in here!"

I sort of looked at her like she had suddenly sprouted three heads (partially because in her hysteria a bobby pin had come loose and was swinging crazily in front of her face and she didn't even notice) and calmly said, "What is the matter with you? Go sit and calm yourself." Poor Bobby didn't know what the hell ailed her and Ellie and Bean were cracking up at their sister's distress.

All in all the kids stayed maybe an hour before leaving. Blake nearly trampled them getting out of there. And I didn't think too much more of it other than to laugh about that bobby pin dangling.

Fast forward to this past Saturday. We went to go visit my nephew who is recovering from a serious accident. We took the kids to Boston to see him and decided to leave The Toots with nurse Sheila so there would be no medical drama while we were there. You will get the irony of this last sentence in a moment.

I knew Blake was nervous. And as the visit progressed at one point I noticed her hands shaking like a parkinsons patient. I took her aside and whispered, "Are you okay?". She assured me she was fine and so we continued to chat with Heather and Joe.

The next thing I heard was Blake saying, "Mom, I can't see."

I thought to myself, "For God's sake, what is she trying to look at that I could possibly be blocking?" I mean, I know I'm not small by any stretch of the imagination but to be blocking her whole field of vision? Come on!

Then she keeled over. Head first into a chair and then the floor.

Yep, out cold. I was so shocked I couldn't move. Ellie said something along the lines of, "Wellsa!" while the hubby sprang into action and gathered poor Blake up into his arms. The look on Heather's face was priceless.

We got Blake sort of situated. Head down, feet up, laying on the hospital floor right beside Joe's bed. It was about the time she started coming around that I began to snicker. Heather, who had been right next to me started to snicker as well. Then I was full blown, hysterically laughing, to the point of snorting, and so was Heather. The hubby did not seem to share our humor which only made us laugh harder.

Yeah, we're all heart. In fact, poor Blake had to actually ask me to "make myself useful" and get her some water. So I laughed even harder.

After about twenty minutes of laying down, then moving to a sitting position all the while apologizing to Joe saying things like, "I'm sorry Joe, it's not you. You look good. It's me. I hate hospitals" and at one point apologizing to him for "stealing his thunder", Blake managed to pull herself together enough to leave under her own steam (which was questionable at one point. She even asked if I was 100% opposed to her being wheeled out in a wheelchair) and I shoo'd them out ahead of me as Heather thanked Blake for the much needed laugh.

Then I turned to Heather and, you got it, we lost it some more. With a hug goodbye, I left. Both of us still in gales of completely inappropriate laughter.

When we got to the van Blake described the experience for us.

"I dreamt I was on a roller coaster because Joey's face kept whipping by and I had an up and down sensation. But now what I think happened is that the room was spinning and the up and down part was me falling over."

Well, yeah, that would make sense.

I laughingly agreed that that was probably what happened and luckily, Blake has an awesome sense of humor, even at her own expense and laughed right along with me and agreed I could blog about her little episode when I asked.

Then we got a text from Heather, "Is Blake feeling better?"

Me: "Yes. And She is happy to have made your day. Always leave 'em laughing she said."

Heather: "Well, I'm still laughing"


Mission Accomplished. Thanks Blake.