We've been hit with the plague in our house. Lauren has had it for weeks now and the rest of us have succumbed one at a time. It wouldn't be so bad if the mucus wasn't keeping Lauren up with a hacking cough all night long.
My kids having colds doesn't normally hinder our schedule too much. I still toss Roman onto the schoolbus and haul Lauren off to preschool. I figure that's where she got it in the first place so surely sending the germs back won't be a surprise to anyone.
But today it, plus the reduced visibility of heavy blowing snow, changed our plans to join some Noonan Syndrome families in Barrie. I was really hoping a new family would be joining the festivities but didn't want to expose their four month old to this potential health disaster. It's one thing to welcome germ laden people into your home by choice. It's another to arrive somewhere only to find others hacking and sneezing with no warning to you or your family.
It happened to me once for an occasion we could have easily skipped. We arrived for a late day visit, two tired kids in tow, only to find two extended family members with dreadful colds clambering to snuggle my children. No thank you!
Yes. My kids ARE going to get colds. Yes. It will build their immune systems but after months of near continuous illness that season, I would've appreciated choice in the matter.
Thus I do my best to avoid putting someone else in that situation - especially with an infant with health complications.
What today's change of plans allowed though, was time in the snow!
Lauren seemed to be taking it all in. It is her third winter but who remembers snow from when they're 18 months old? It was like a whole new experience. She helped me fill the bird feeders then rode on her truck on the shoveled sidewalk. Next she had me put her at the top of the slide where she cleaned all the snow off in one fell swoop.
"You cleaned off all the snow!" I exclaimed when she was lying on her back at the bottom.
"No." she replied, "My butt did!"
Trip number two down the slide resulted in a three foot launch off the end. She landed flat out, spread-eagled with her head held up. It was just like in a movie. She looked at me and let her head thump down into the pile of snow that had previously been cleared by her butt.
Roman, meanwhile, is an engineer through and through. He had his Tonka trucks out - grader, roller, excavators, the works - clearing the snow to make roads. This from the kid who, in previous winters, wouldn't go out the door if we didn't force him. Today he didn't want to come back in regardless how cold he was.
We finally bribed him in with the cookies.
Homemade pizza, some colouring and stories later, it's off to bed for two contented, but still sick little kids... and Roman and Lauren.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Ho Ho Ho...
I read a blog post by Scribbling Mom (a Bloggy Mom I started following a while ago after her post about farts and poop. Sadly, I could relate...) about whether it was too soon to talk about/plan for/shop for Christmas (read The C Word here.) I didn't have the heart to tell her that half my shopping is done... actually more than half since I've covered Roman's and Lauren's birthday's too.
I also neglected to mention that Santa came to town this weekend... and here's how it looked:
Following the parade we warmed our frozen bodies at the home of friends. By the time we arrived, hubby had returned from the LCBO complete with wine and prosecco. Nothing better than a fun afternoon followed by an amazing dinner warmed by red wine and happy children.
Monday I noticed Lauren's eye stitches have finally disappeared making this the first 'official' After Picture. Not the greatest photo composition but a gorgeous little girl with big green-brown eyes.
Today was much more rough on all of us. Lauren was a basket case until she finally crashed in my arms around 3pm. Roman was a basket case too - full of 5 year old defiance and selective listening. For the first time ever I left a store, without making the purchases I had so carefully selected, because of the behaviour of my children. Seriously! In five years I have NEVER had to say, "That's it. We're going." leaving a full cart / arm load of whatever sitting on the counter." Now, had the store been properly staffed instead of leaving a line of us waiting at the register for 10 minutes, we might have made it out with less money but more presents. But I drew the line.
The rest of the day was just stellar (she said with heavy sarcasm) until Lauren fell asleep and I sent Roman with Hubby to get groceries.
Seemed everyone just needed some time one on one.
Roman practiced piano without fighting. They both ate dinner without protest and both had baths without sending fountains of water out of the tub.
Once Lauren was off to bed, Roman and I even had time to put together this adorable card for his friend's birthday on Thursday:
There are no presents being given so a handmade card counts for a lot plus Roman loves to use my die-cutting machine. We made the owl together using the machine. He did most of the gluing then added the branches, tree and leaves. After one leaf he said, "All the rest of the leaves have fallen off..."
We ended the night, Roman and I, reading some Curious George and me telling him all the amazing things he had done today. Things like asking Lauren to play cars, giving her a snuggle (while she was asleep in my arms) 'because she has a cold and I want it to go away', not fighting over dinner or the bath and spending time with me making the card. He was content then to roll over and go to sleep.
I'm content too. It was a ho ho horrible start to our day but a perfect finish.
I also neglected to mention that Santa came to town this weekend... and here's how it looked:
 |
| Lauren and Mama wait in the freezing wind for something fun to happen. |
 |
| Roman sees more of his favourite things - trucks! Anything with wheels brings a smile like this. |
 |
| "Look at my candy cane!" |
 |
| The first time past us, the Care Bear gave Lauren a huge hug. A few minutes later he came running back for a even bigger one, picking her up complete with huge giggles from Lauren. |
 | |||
| The man himself. This photo is Roman's. Sometimes he really captures the moment. |
Following the parade we warmed our frozen bodies at the home of friends. By the time we arrived, hubby had returned from the LCBO complete with wine and prosecco. Nothing better than a fun afternoon followed by an amazing dinner warmed by red wine and happy children.
Monday I noticed Lauren's eye stitches have finally disappeared making this the first 'official' After Picture. Not the greatest photo composition but a gorgeous little girl with big green-brown eyes.
 |
Today was much more rough on all of us. Lauren was a basket case until she finally crashed in my arms around 3pm. Roman was a basket case too - full of 5 year old defiance and selective listening. For the first time ever I left a store, without making the purchases I had so carefully selected, because of the behaviour of my children. Seriously! In five years I have NEVER had to say, "That's it. We're going." leaving a full cart / arm load of whatever sitting on the counter." Now, had the store been properly staffed instead of leaving a line of us waiting at the register for 10 minutes, we might have made it out with less money but more presents. But I drew the line.
The rest of the day was just stellar (she said with heavy sarcasm) until Lauren fell asleep and I sent Roman with Hubby to get groceries.
Seemed everyone just needed some time one on one.
Roman practiced piano without fighting. They both ate dinner without protest and both had baths without sending fountains of water out of the tub.
Once Lauren was off to bed, Roman and I even had time to put together this adorable card for his friend's birthday on Thursday:
 |
There are no presents being given so a handmade card counts for a lot plus Roman loves to use my die-cutting machine. We made the owl together using the machine. He did most of the gluing then added the branches, tree and leaves. After one leaf he said, "All the rest of the leaves have fallen off..."
We ended the night, Roman and I, reading some Curious George and me telling him all the amazing things he had done today. Things like asking Lauren to play cars, giving her a snuggle (while she was asleep in my arms) 'because she has a cold and I want it to go away', not fighting over dinner or the bath and spending time with me making the card. He was content then to roll over and go to sleep.
I'm content too. It was a ho ho horrible start to our day but a perfect finish.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
How my die-cutter made me into a vandal
It's corn harvest time next door and it's been nearly a week of watching Farmer John do this:
With this parked beside our house each night for security and for a morning charge of the block heater... just to help it start up nicely each time.
Combine harvesters often remind me of those big black guards in the Dark Crystal. This time however, it needed a name. Big machines you spend a lot of time with need names. Our cars after all, have names. Now, we have a son and he loves things with wheels. As one can imagine, we have watched the movie Cars more times than any sane household could possibly support. So Combine was quickly renamed "Frank".
Farmer John finished the field today and we're not sure if he's noticed Frank's name tag yet. It's on the opposite side of the cab and above head height for a walk-a-around after all so could go quite awhile before being seen by anyone other than, well, me.
Meanwhile, in our non-vandalism driven life, here's Lauren with her beautiful eyes and "cony-tails":
And Roman with a Mutzu almost as big as his head.
My mom calls it a memory apple because I remember being home sick from school when I had an apple this size. It was lunch, Mom made me kraft dinner and gave me an apple while we watched The Price is Right. I remember the apple being HUUUUUUGE! certainly as big as my head!
As the years passed I thought it was just a distorted memory until this weekend when we visited my parents. They had recently been to a local orchard returning with bushels of everything including mutzus as big as Roman's head.
With this parked beside our house each night for security and for a morning charge of the block heater... just to help it start up nicely each time.
Combine harvesters often remind me of those big black guards in the Dark Crystal. This time however, it needed a name. Big machines you spend a lot of time with need names. Our cars after all, have names. Now, we have a son and he loves things with wheels. As one can imagine, we have watched the movie Cars more times than any sane household could possibly support. So Combine was quickly renamed "Frank".
If he's going to be called, Frank, let's make it official. Let's be clear. This is not something I would EVER have done with paint but...
I have a die cutter (two actually but I digress) and
I have vinyl... and
I have fun fonts... and...
just enough rebellious nature to push me on to vandalism.
It's not much and actually looks kinda nice... there.. just below the window...
Farmer John finished the field today and we're not sure if he's noticed Frank's name tag yet. It's on the opposite side of the cab and above head height for a walk-a-around after all so could go quite awhile before being seen by anyone other than, well, me.
Meanwhile, in our non-vandalism driven life, here's Lauren with her beautiful eyes and "cony-tails":
And Roman with a Mutzu almost as big as his head.
My mom calls it a memory apple because I remember being home sick from school when I had an apple this size. It was lunch, Mom made me kraft dinner and gave me an apple while we watched The Price is Right. I remember the apple being HUUUUUUGE! certainly as big as my head!
As the years passed I thought it was just a distorted memory until this weekend when we visited my parents. They had recently been to a local orchard returning with bushels of everything including mutzus as big as Roman's head.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Carrying on
It's been an interesting couple weeks. With Lauren's eye surgery done, the most pressing item on our plate has been cleared and for a few days, I was relieved. It was nice to see we'd all gotten through and were rewarded with knowing without any doubt it was the correct choice.
Then life started to catch up again.
We were in an environment with a lot of background noise and Lauren became clingy. Since the staff at preschool mentioned her hearing issues, I've been intentionally more sensitive to it. Whenever there's too much ambient noise, Lauren immediately wants to be up in my arms and snuggled in tight. It happened at a local dairy farm when we were in the barn near the generator and at church during the music portion of the service.
Next I witnessed her struggle on the stairs. She had her car case - a small plastic box with a handle her hot wheels go in - and had come up the stairs. When she got to the top step, she somehow ended up with one knee down and was trying to straighten the other leg to stand while still holding the case with one hand and the wall with the other. She tried a few times then finally let go of the case and the wall, put both hands onto the floor and popped her butt into the air to stand - like any toddler would.
I was torn between applauding her "whatever, just get it done" attitude and feeling a sense of defeat that this simple thing - standing up without having to brace her hands on the floor - escaped her. She's not a toddler. She's the size of your average toddler but she's not ACTUALLY a toddler any more. We're well into the world of preschoolers but the physical strength necessary to allow her to stand the way she was attempting just didn't exist.
I've also read a post by another Ontario mom who was able to attend this summer's Noonan Syndrome conference in Quebec. The mom wrote a blog entry about how the conference opened her to so much more information and resources and how thankful she was that they could go. What really struck me were her words about how many more specialist appointments are now set up in an attempt to solve some of her daughter's on going issues. Things she never really knew were going on until she had new information to work with. In her words, "Just when we thought her medical troubles were behind her, things have taken a turn for the worse".
I don't read this as a lament that things are now worse but that things were missed due to lack of information and lack of support from the specialists available to her.
For me I cringe because I want time to just hide from it for a while. Put my head in the sand and pretend it's not there. Just for a while. But then am faced with the consequences of doing so. If I don't pay close attention, ALL THE TIME, things get missed like the line items in the cardiologist's report listing the shunting and the wall thickening.
And if I 'ignore' things like her struggling to stand in favour of her resourcefulness, am I missing a warning that we need to be more intense with her physio just because I don't want to, or am too tired to, face it any more?
Let's add in that a family lost their little boy last week. He had a severe cold everyone thought was pretty standard. If his breathing became laboured, they were to have him checked again. The mom and the doctor even touched base during in the evening just in case. Later that night, between the time the boy`s breathing was compromised and the mom got dressed to take him to Emergency, he had died.
Just like that.
In barely a moment.
I hurt for the family. I can't begin to accurately imagine what they're going through. The son had more complex heart defects than most but one that is pretty standard for his particular genetic mutation.
The same RAF1 mutation Lauren has.
The same severe heart complication she has the potential to develop.
This is how things turn emotionally and psychologically complex in a matter of moments.
I recognize that there is so much I don't know about Lauren's condition and that there are things I may never know. I'm sure there are steps I should - NEED TO - be taking but without knowing the path is there, it's difficult to find. Meanwhile the world carries on. The corn harvest carries on next door. The birds carry on with migration. Lauren and Roman carry on with all things they do. Hubby carries on with work and home and doing his best to figure out how to carry me on.
And I carry on.
We carry on.
Then life started to catch up again.
We were in an environment with a lot of background noise and Lauren became clingy. Since the staff at preschool mentioned her hearing issues, I've been intentionally more sensitive to it. Whenever there's too much ambient noise, Lauren immediately wants to be up in my arms and snuggled in tight. It happened at a local dairy farm when we were in the barn near the generator and at church during the music portion of the service.
Next I witnessed her struggle on the stairs. She had her car case - a small plastic box with a handle her hot wheels go in - and had come up the stairs. When she got to the top step, she somehow ended up with one knee down and was trying to straighten the other leg to stand while still holding the case with one hand and the wall with the other. She tried a few times then finally let go of the case and the wall, put both hands onto the floor and popped her butt into the air to stand - like any toddler would.
I was torn between applauding her "whatever, just get it done" attitude and feeling a sense of defeat that this simple thing - standing up without having to brace her hands on the floor - escaped her. She's not a toddler. She's the size of your average toddler but she's not ACTUALLY a toddler any more. We're well into the world of preschoolers but the physical strength necessary to allow her to stand the way she was attempting just didn't exist.
I've also read a post by another Ontario mom who was able to attend this summer's Noonan Syndrome conference in Quebec. The mom wrote a blog entry about how the conference opened her to so much more information and resources and how thankful she was that they could go. What really struck me were her words about how many more specialist appointments are now set up in an attempt to solve some of her daughter's on going issues. Things she never really knew were going on until she had new information to work with. In her words, "Just when we thought her medical troubles were behind her, things have taken a turn for the worse".
I don't read this as a lament that things are now worse but that things were missed due to lack of information and lack of support from the specialists available to her.
For me I cringe because I want time to just hide from it for a while. Put my head in the sand and pretend it's not there. Just for a while. But then am faced with the consequences of doing so. If I don't pay close attention, ALL THE TIME, things get missed like the line items in the cardiologist's report listing the shunting and the wall thickening.
And if I 'ignore' things like her struggling to stand in favour of her resourcefulness, am I missing a warning that we need to be more intense with her physio just because I don't want to, or am too tired to, face it any more?
Let's add in that a family lost their little boy last week. He had a severe cold everyone thought was pretty standard. If his breathing became laboured, they were to have him checked again. The mom and the doctor even touched base during in the evening just in case. Later that night, between the time the boy`s breathing was compromised and the mom got dressed to take him to Emergency, he had died.
Just like that.
In barely a moment.
I hurt for the family. I can't begin to accurately imagine what they're going through. The son had more complex heart defects than most but one that is pretty standard for his particular genetic mutation.
The same RAF1 mutation Lauren has.
The same severe heart complication she has the potential to develop.
This is how things turn emotionally and psychologically complex in a matter of moments.
I recognize that there is so much I don't know about Lauren's condition and that there are things I may never know. I'm sure there are steps I should - NEED TO - be taking but without knowing the path is there, it's difficult to find. Meanwhile the world carries on. The corn harvest carries on next door. The birds carry on with migration. Lauren and Roman carry on with all things they do. Hubby carries on with work and home and doing his best to figure out how to carry me on.
And I carry on.
We carry on.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Eye-Guy Follow-up
There's no rational reason for it other than the lack of necessity in going but the trip to Toronto yesterday was unnatural. Believable, like something out of an oft held dream, but definitely not of this world.
Thankfully I remembered yesterday morning that this appointment was 20 minutes later (1:20 pm) than the previous two. This gave us just enough time to squeeze in lunch and a bit of play between the chiropractor's appointment and hitting the road. Again.
Given we've been late for the last two appointments (not counting the surgery day because how can you possibly be late for an appointment at 6 in the morning?) and I HATE being late, we gave ourselves a full two hours to get there.
And somehow the traffic gods must have been looking away because everything went smoothly.
Can I get a "whaaaaat???" from the audience?
Not a brake light to be seen for the entire drive. Even across the TOP of TO - the part of the 401 I dread from the 427 to the DVP.
Of course not a brake light to be seen means arriving 40 minutes early for our appointment.
Yep. 40 minutes. I joke with a friend about how we'd rather be 40 minutes early than 2 minutes late but I take it back. 40 minutes early suh-ucks.
After wandering a grocery store for 20 minutes and loading up on Lauren friendly snacks, we arrived officially 10 minutes early to find Dr. P in a tremendous mood. I guess surgery went well for him that morning.
He was chatty. He'd never been chatty. Small talk, friendly banter, happy faces, time to spend. All things we have not had in the past and I was sincerely NOT prepared for.
I was so thrown off by it I forgot to ask what I wanted to ask (like: when will we know that what we're seeing is what it'll be? and do we need to keep giving her the ointment or should we stop a couple days early since we've had no complications?) but it was a welcome change.
Dr. P is happy with how things look. He says there's still a bit of swelling to go down and that we'll likely still see a tiny bit of adjustment but that cosmetically, everything looks wonderful. He and I will always be the most critical but to the rest of the world there is nothing 'remarkable' about her eyes. In this instance, nothing remarkable is a good thing!
All good news."I won't bring you back here again but you can call anytime if you need anything." More good news!
There's still a some bruising to clear up and the stitches to dissolve but overall, this traumatic, emotionally consuming phase of Lauren`s physical development is done.
So class, today's equation is: smooth drive in + chatty warm appointment + smooth drive home = one surreal experience
Thankfully I remembered yesterday morning that this appointment was 20 minutes later (1:20 pm) than the previous two. This gave us just enough time to squeeze in lunch and a bit of play between the chiropractor's appointment and hitting the road. Again.
Given we've been late for the last two appointments (not counting the surgery day because how can you possibly be late for an appointment at 6 in the morning?) and I HATE being late, we gave ourselves a full two hours to get there.
And somehow the traffic gods must have been looking away because everything went smoothly.
Can I get a "whaaaaat???" from the audience?
Not a brake light to be seen for the entire drive. Even across the TOP of TO - the part of the 401 I dread from the 427 to the DVP.
Of course not a brake light to be seen means arriving 40 minutes early for our appointment.
Yep. 40 minutes. I joke with a friend about how we'd rather be 40 minutes early than 2 minutes late but I take it back. 40 minutes early suh-ucks.
After wandering a grocery store for 20 minutes and loading up on Lauren friendly snacks, we arrived officially 10 minutes early to find Dr. P in a tremendous mood. I guess surgery went well for him that morning.
He was chatty. He'd never been chatty. Small talk, friendly banter, happy faces, time to spend. All things we have not had in the past and I was sincerely NOT prepared for.
I was so thrown off by it I forgot to ask what I wanted to ask (like: when will we know that what we're seeing is what it'll be? and do we need to keep giving her the ointment or should we stop a couple days early since we've had no complications?) but it was a welcome change.
Dr. P is happy with how things look. He says there's still a bit of swelling to go down and that we'll likely still see a tiny bit of adjustment but that cosmetically, everything looks wonderful. He and I will always be the most critical but to the rest of the world there is nothing 'remarkable' about her eyes. In this instance, nothing remarkable is a good thing!
All good news."I won't bring you back here again but you can call anytime if you need anything." More good news!
There's still a some bruising to clear up and the stitches to dissolve but overall, this traumatic, emotionally consuming phase of Lauren`s physical development is done.
So class, today's equation is: smooth drive in + chatty warm appointment + smooth drive home = one surreal experience
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