Impending Doom

How many of you guessed that this post would be about Memphis? You win the grand prize for the day. I am neglecting the rest of the kiddos in my writing lately, but you know they just don't try to kill themselves as often as Memphis does.

Cody and Carson share a bunk bed. The ladder on this bed is removable and it is my job to make sure the ladder gets put away every morning. Every once in a while (ok maybe a little more often than that), I forget my job. Take this morning for instance. Brad had to fly to Dallas at 6:30 and Carson woke up with a fever of 103.8. Not exactly a great start to the day.

So anyway, in a little while I hear something screamed in baby jargon that sounds remarkably like, "Hey! Come get me down!" Now I can't prove that that is what he was saying, but at the time I heard that I didn't know yet that he was "up."

Sure enough, when I went looking for him, he was up on the top bunk and very excited about it. But he had left his beloved blankies at the base of the ladder and wanted them desperately. Much to his chagrin, I would not, could not just deliver his blankets and let his life continue to hang in the balance.

He had to come down. Fortunately, his blankie reunion was enough to lift his spirits again and he was off to find another way to terrify me.

Who Could Have Done This?

This is the scene that greeted me when I went to get ready for bed one night a couple of weeks ago. I know the angle of this picture is nauseating, sorry about that. Anyway, Cody was out of town, as was Brad (he comes home later today after another three week absence). I think Carson may have thought that if she didn't keep an eye on me, I might disappear too. So she had been sleeping in my bed. I guess sleeping might not be the right word. Brianna and Meyson and I were watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban in the living room and she, apparently, was giving herself a makeover.

Nice uni-brow, huh? The reality was so much worse than what it looks like here. Foundation and blush abounded, I think you get the picture.

Oh, and you'll be amused to know that all of my credit/debit/membership cards were strewn about under the covers of my bed next to her. Guess that obsession has not ended. Make-up and credit cards. Can't wait for the teen years.

Feeding Therapy

No kidding. I've heard of occupational, physical and speech therapies, but this is a new one to me. I only know about it now because I have to take Memphis twice a week. It's a good thing, and I am optimistic that it will improve his eating habits. Or maybe help him to develop some eating habits.

He is such a typical kid. I've said before that he didn't eat more than a few bites of food everyday and thrived on the knowledge that his next pediasure would probably come soon. But about three days before our evaluation, the kid began eating like he hadn't eaten in six months. Because he hadn't. Regardless, he scored low enough on his evaluation that feeding therapy was recommended.

Their main concern is that Memphis will become malnourished if he doesn't expand the variety of foods he will eat. She explained that as kids get closer to four years old they cut more and more foods out of their diet, but that this behavior doesn't usually start until around their second birthday. The fact that Memphis started on his first birthday was concerning because they are worried that by the time he is four he will only have 1 or 2 foods that he will eat consistently. I guess somewhere around four or five is when they start to open their minds to other foods again.

This is so different for me because I have never given in to making the children separate meals just because they said they "didn't like" something. Dinner is dinner. Eat it or don't. I've never had a kid who actually called that bluff until Memphis.

So, we will go twice a week and hopefully learn some new ways to get him to try new foods and to accept ones he's already rejected. I can't imagine what they will do differently from all the things I have tried, but I guess they know what they are doing. Hopefully we will start to see some weight gain soon. Wish us luck!

New Life

Our little addition is growing strong and everything looks great! Twenty weeks and counting, becoming more real everyday.


Cody didn't want to go to the ultrasound today because "it's just black and white and I hate black and white." I could not disagree more. During the ultrasound, the tech switched to the mode that shows blood flow (I think) and all these patches of red, orange, and yellow appeared.

I said, "Oh Cody look! That's not black and white." She smiled and then Carson said, "Mom, is there a fire in there?" That got a pretty good laugh out of the nurses in the room.

Overall, the kids seem to be excited. Hopefully that will be the trend.

Sorrow

I don't know what to say. I'm grieving the death of a child who I never knew. A child who touched more lives in his short four and a half years than I may touch for the rest of mine.

Back in October, I think, a link to a particularly funny ebay auction came through the mommy group that I belong to. Since then I have been reading Dawn's blog. She would update on Julian every so often, but I didn't want to even think about it. A four year old with brain cancer. My mind could not comprehend it. It hit too close to home. I didn't want to know.

Then one day something made me take the plunge. I started reading Julian's carepage. His mom, Mimi, began writing it back in March just after he was diagnosed. It didn't take me long to read Julian's whole story despite the fact that she wrote an update almost everyday.

The more I read the more involved I became. Then in November his MRI showed that cancer had taken over his brain and his spine and it was determined that there was no longer a treatment plan. Only a hospice plan.

Julian went to Heaven this morning.

I knew it was coming and yet I can't believe it. How do you bury a four year old? As a mother, how do you watch your baby die? It makes my whole body hurt to think about it. My mind can't even go there.

I wonder how his three brothers will ever understand what has happened. How do you explain to children that, yes, even kids die? Cancer is such an evil thing.

What a gift I have. To be the mother of healthy children. What more could I ask for? And yet, it is something that I take for granted. My blessed little babies run and play everyday. They do not even know what cancer is. Thank God.

My heart, the heart of a mother, goes out to Mimi tonight. I cannot imagine the pain. Rest in peace, Julian. You touched more lives than you know.

Winter....Blech!

Winter is seriously hindering my laziness. It makes so much more work for me. Leaving the house takes an act of Congress.

First, I must locate three coats. Then three hats. Thank goodness it's not cold enough for mittens because my children would have lost their hands to frostbite a long time ago if it was. After locating the outerwear, I must force the childrens' writhing bodies into them and convince them that if they take them off again they are going to be sorry. Thankfully nobody has yet asked why exactly they would be sorry. The answer would go something like this: "Because if you take off your hat then your ears will freeze off of your head and all of your hair will fall out. But that will come after you watch steam come out of Mommy's ears and witness the explosion of her brain."

We do all this preparation because we are going somewhere. Somewhere heated. And it doesn't matter that we might only be inside this place for 30 seconds. The hats and coats go flying. And the fact that I spent an hour doing everyone's hair that morning goes completely unnoticed because it is all standing straight up now anyway.

When it is time to leave, it is body stuffing fun all over again except this time we are in a public place. With an audience. People love to stare at a pregnant mom dressing three young children. And some of them can't help but come over to recount their own experiences with their children when they were young. Oh help.

I miss Summer.

I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good

I caught the Harry Potter bug. My brother and sister-in-law gave us the whole set for Christmas and I had never read any of them before. Now I am in the middle of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, which some of you will recognize as the 6th book in the series. I can't stop reading them because it's like the story doesn't really end until I've finished the 7th book. And because I've been using every bit of spare time I've had to read, everything around me has become a reference to the story.

Our dog Junah, for instance, is the canine form of Dobby the house elf. I went to check the mail after dark a couple of days ago and I had the fleeting thought that I wasn't supposed to be outside after dark. I considered the name Sirius for our unborn child if it is a boy until I realized that anytime anybody asked him, "are you serious?" he would have to answer, "yes actually, I am" even if he was joking.

I really should have read these when I was a little younger and more adventurous because, while I can relate to some of what Harry and his friends are up to, mostly I find myself worrying about him. Which is ridiculous at this point because if Harry died there wouldn't be a seventh book. And I can pretty much guess that he will kill Voldemort in the end because why would we read seven books about a remarkable child who ends up not living out his purpose? By the way, please don't tell me if I'm wrong.

Everyone in the house is in on it. Brianna is almost finished with the first one, Brad is reading the seventh one having read all of the others a few years ago, and I had to steal number six from Meyson with the promise that I would only have it for a few days. The little ones watched the first and second movies but will have to age quite a few years before they will be allowed to watch the others. I think the second one was pushing it for Carson.

Anyway, I'm having fun with them, and if you haven't read the series, it's worth the time it takes.

Pediasure Anonymous

One day Memphis is going to have gained enough weight that the doctor will tell us that it's ok to stop giving him pediasure. He will then have to join some sort of support group to overcome his addiction.

He will not do anything in the morning until he's had his morning ration. No eating or playing, and Heaven forbid you try to change his diaper. The obsession lasts all day but was pretty easily managed by not opening the refrigerator when he was in the kitchen. Until he learned to open the fridge himself. A few days ago life became much more complicated.

Now anytime he gets a hankerin' for some pediasure, he just marches his tiny body into the kitchen, opens the fridge, makes his selection and presents it to me along with his sippy cup. If it were up to him he'd drink a whole six pack everyday.

The other day while at Target, I spotted their store brand pediasure and it cost about three dollars less per six pack than the brand name. I thought we might as well try it and see if he can tell the difference. I put them in the fridge right next to the "real" ones. It must not taste much different because he drinks it down in the same 3.2 minutes that it takes him to guzzle the brand name. But he does think they look inferior.

Meyson alerted me to the fact that Memphis was in the fridge and was organizing his favorite drink. Yeah right. My first thought was no way he could/would do that. See for yourself:

In the bottom left corner you will see the brand name pediasure bottles and in the top right corner, the Target brand ones. They all started out where the Target ones are. Can you say OCD? Ok so that's not really something to joke about, but what would make an 18 month old child do this? He cracks me up.

Incidentally, the refrigerator is not the only kitchen appliance that he is interested in right now.

Fun times.

Dam

A couple of weeks ago we went to go look at Christmas lights as a family. This means that seven of us piled into our seven passenger minivan. Apparently they use very small people when measuring how many passengers a vehicle can hold because the three kids in the back row couldn't move their arms the whole time.

We went out to a small community that surrounds a lake that is known for being a good place to see impressive light displays. One house in particular impressed the kids. It had life-sized mannequins of Santa and Mrs. Claus waving at us from the bay window. Meyson was actually kind of freaked out by their "psycho-like" movements, but the rest of us enjoyed it.

Moving on, we weaved through some more streets, crossed the dam, and checked out every display we could find. It was then that Brianna asked if we could go back and see the house with the Santa in the window again. I was driving but couldn't remember exactly where we had seen that house, so I asked, "Was it before or after the dam?" To which she replied, "Umm...I don't know..." No biggie, I knew we would probably run into it again on accident anyway.

We continued on and came back to the dam to cross back over and go home when Brianna yells from the backseat, "Ohhhh, this dam thing!!!" followed by, "What? Why are you guys laughing? What happened?"

We're lucky I didn't drive off that dam thing.