Archive for the ‘Whoops’ Category

  • All Thumbs

    Date: 2015.10.06 | Category: Family, Health, Home, Life, Mark, Me, Norah, Toddler Time, Whoops | Response: 0

    Last Friday I had Norah at the pediatrician’s office for her two-year-old well visit.  I had Luke in tow as well. His fussiness and sleeplessness was reaching critical level and his cough was enough to scare me every time it happened.

    Norah, when she and I go places together without the entire crew, tends to be an angel. She readily got on the scale, let them measure her and check her temperature. Put up a small fight at shot time, but didn’t even cry during her finger stick. Our pediatrician, who we have gotten to know well enough that we now call her, “Aunt Monica,” and I discussed and sort of laughed at Norah’s ability to find accident and injury and her ER history, but we were relieved that she had gone a stretch without anything significant happening.

    Luke, it turned out, had a double ear infection, so we got an antibiotic for him and we went about our merry way.

    Fate, though, reared its ugly head that evening.

    I got it into my head that night that I wanted to make one of the girls’ favorite dishes, “yellow soup,” (ie potato and veggie and cheese soup). I knew I had all the ingredients, so I got to work. When I grabbed the chicken broth, however, I discovered that Norah had gotten a hold of it and tried to open it with her teeth in a fit of rat-like hunger, thus opening it and letting it go bad. I grumbled as I tossed the unused box into the trash and dug around in my pantry where I unearthed a still-good can of chicken broth. I decided to use that to start the soup while Mark ran to the store to get more.

    As things often happen at dinner time, both babies started crying, so I went to them while I waited on the soup to cook, not thinking about all the things that were still sitting on the counter top.

    Mark got back, and while he was busy adding the rest of the ingredients and I was tending to babies, Norah decided she very much wanted that open can of chicken broth still sitting out on the counter, so she reached for it. The lid was still attached, so when she stuck her thumb down in the can, it got stuck, she panicked and then she yanked… HARD.

    Mark starts yelling that Norah is bleeding everywhere. I panicked a little and asked if she needed stitches, but he couldn’t tell because there was so much blood. I pinned her down and looked and the gaping wound on her thumb. No doubt, there would be stitches.

    Mark would have to drive while I held my toddler with her gushing thumb, which Mark ingeniously wrapped in paper towels and electric tape, so we quickly began seeking back up help. My mom had my sister’s kids, my in-laws were out of town, my sister was at work… “Call Debbie,” I said, and our wonderful neighbor immediately rushed over to help.

    We darted out the door and made for Quick Care. They took one look at her thumb and sent us immediately over to the Emergency Room.

    When we got there, the ER was empty, thank goodness, and one of our friends was our nurse. In short order they brought out our old friend the papoose board and put Norah in her straight jacket.

    We tried all kinds of distraction techniques while they numbed her up the doctor started cleaning and stitching. The ER doctor encouraged us to sing, “Wheels on the Bus.” I can just imagine the joy and horror anyone walking by would have experienced as they watched a little girl strapped to a blue board getting her hand stitched up while her parents, three nurses and a doctor sang “Wheels on the Bus” complete with hand motions. Norah, however, did not find it at all entertaining.

    Still though, three stitches later we were out of there, but not before our ER doctor commented that we looked familiar. Yes, this was her third trip to the ER in a year, but, I said, “ I swear we’re good parents!”

    It was when we got home and started to get her ready for bed that it dawned on me that it was the thumb she sucks to soothe herself and go to sleep. Oh hell.

    It was a bad night. She had trouble going to sleep without sucking her thumb, and then couldn’t settle herself as she woke up multiple times in the middle of the night, both in pain and in general anger at the thumb situation. When I told her to suck her other thumb, she just looked at it and screamed. Combine that with the babies waking up with painful ears and it was rough.

    That was a Friday night. Monday morning I had a phone call from dear “Aunt Monica,” who could not believe what she saw when she got her files from the weekend. She left me the sweetest and most encouraging voicemail that said many things, but included the phrases, “Oh my gosh it never ends,” and “I firmly believe God only gives you what you can handle and He knows you are a stronger woman than I.”

    It’s now been over a week and things are getting better. She’s missed a lot of naps over the thumb sucking issue, but she had the stitches taken out yesterday and hasn’t resumed thumb sucking… so maybe in the silver lining of things she broke that habit? I’m not ready to swear by it yet, but maybe, just maybe.

    And also, this birthday gift from Cassie showed up in our mailbox last night, and I have to say, it’s perfection.

  • The Middle Child

    Date: 2015.06.16 | Category: Family, Health, Home, Life, Me, Norah, Toddler Time, Whoops | Response: 2

    Mark and I will readily admit, as first born children, that we did not fully understand the plight of the middle child.

    Of course you always hear how middle children are treated differently: they are overlooked, ignored or given harsher punishments and as a result they act out and do crazy things to nab that so-longed-for attention.

    I didn’t think we would struggle with any of those things with Norah. Prior to the arrival of our twins, Norah was our love bear. She loves to snuggle, sit in our laps and love on her silky blankies. Our oldest and first born, ever the independent stereotype, wanted nothing to do with any of those things and so we especially loved cuddling our Norah Bean.We thought her loving demeanor would transfer over perfectly into mothering the new babies.

    Wrong. WRONG.

    I should have known things would be tough when she started getting very daring near the end of the pregnancy. She put her climbing skills to the test often, and we were constantly after her to “get down,” or “stop doing that,” or “spit it out.”

    On one fateful night, she climbed up to the top of the bunk bed stairs, cartwheeled off the top and hit the floor, knocking herself unconscious. She stopped breathing for about 30 seconds and her eyes rolled back in her head and she started convulsing. Those were the worst 30 seconds of my entire life as I did everything I could to bring her back while panicking. Sarah, feeding off my energy and witness to the whole thing, also started panicking. After beating on her back several times, she took in a gasp and came back to us. We went to the ER where they did a CT scan and reassured us that her minor concussion was nothing to worry about.

    I was traumatized. Sarah was traumatized. So much so that I couldn’t talk about it for a while. Together Sarah and I kept an eye on her climbing, Sarah tattling when Norah would start to get into something she wasn’t supposed to. Norah was pissed off that she had a security detail on her at all times, and began to make a game out of going where she wasn’t supposed to.

    And then poor Norah was completely thrown off with the arrival of her twin siblings.

    All those loving feelings I had dreamed of? Ha! Once we brought the twins home Norah started her campaign to hurt the twins whenever she got a chance. She would scratch their heads, hit their heads, pinch their feet, pull their skin… it was a nightmare! We sought out our pediatrician’s advice in desperation. She suggested time out, which we were already doing, and making a concerted effort to spend one-on-one time with her. We did. And when we did she was so happy, but with four small children it’s impossible to give her all the attention she wants. Still though, that is slowly getting better and just these past two weeks she’s been dolling out kisses instead of pinches to the babies.

    There have been many other attention seeking behaviors. Everything from unrolling entire rolls of toilet paper  and getting her legs stuck between the crib bars to covering herself from hair to toes in Vaseline. All of those, fortunately, have been relatively minor. So I should have known something big was brewing.

    Friday night their grandparents offered to keep the big girls overnight so we could get some much needed rest. While there, in the blink of an eye, Norah  fell off the bed, hit a nightstand and split her lip open. And I’m talking about all the way open until we could see the inside of it. I wasn’t there to witness it, but Sarah was and it sent her into a panic attack. The injury was horrible. Enough to make me light headed and nauseous. Back to the ER we went. We were so fortunate that the place was nearly empty when we arrived though, and they got us back in short order. They had to consciously sedate her this time, which, let me tell you, is super freaky to see your baby with eyes wide open, staring at nothing, laying still while they stitch her back up. I couldn’t watch, but Mark held her hand the whole time as the doctor lined her lip back up and gave her five stitches.

    I was so upset that my little thumb sucker wouldn’t be able to self soothe or eat. Ha! She sure showed me. She was sucking her thumb by the time we put her to bed that same night and ate like a champ the next morning.

    We took her for a follow up appointment this morning. Even her pediatrician cringed when she saw her lip, but  all is healing up like it is supposed to and she is going to be just fine. Even in the pediatrician’s office she took a nose dive in the hallway and hit the floor. My poor clumsy kid takes after her mother and, it seems, is due for a lifetime of upsetting her parents and sister and injuring herself.

    Despite all that though, Norah certainly has a certain sparkle that draws people to her. Maybe it’s her cheesy grin, or the way that she snuggles up to people she just met, but people meet her and love her instantly. Now, if only we can get her to play up that part of her personality to gain attention instead of all that other crazy behavior.

    My poor, sweet middle child. I hope she realizes how much we really do love her despite bringing two more babies home.

  • The Surprise: Part 2

    Date: 2014.11.03 | Category: Baby, Family, Health, Home, Life, Love, Mark, Me, Pregnancy, Weirdness, Whoops | Response: 3

    I wrote this post about a week after we found out we were expecting twins. I know that this post may sound a little doom and gloom, but rest assured we are very happy and excited now… nearly two months after the fact. Still though, it never hurts to keep us in your prayers. Many of these worries still plague us!

    *****

    After we learned that we were unexpectedly expecting again, Mark and I settled into a state of disbelief and shock that manifested itself in a few different ways.

    I had to start acting pregnant again for one.  After previous progesterone problems with Sarah and Norah, I immediately had to have blood work done and schedule my first appointment. And then there was that whole not drinking wine thing and heating up my lunch meat again. The blood work came back and confirmed the pregnancy and things started getting real.

    Mark and I battled with worry. How would we provide for an additional child? We needed to get bunk beds for the big girls. Norah was only ELEVEN MONTHS OLD!  How was I going to tell work after not even a year back from maternity leave?

    All these questions continued to bounce around in our heads when we went in for our first OB visit. After filling out paperwork and saying hi to all my “old friends” at the office, we went in for our first ultrasound that would both confirm the pregnancy without any doubt and give us an idea of the baby’s due date.

    As we prepared for the ultrasound, I told the tech how I had always wanted three children, but we just weren’t prepared for it to happen so soon. She stared at the screen and said, “Well, what about four?”

    My heart dropped and I started to shake. Sure enough, up on the screen were two very distinct little babies, each in their own yolk sack with little heartbeats fluttering away.


    Our first ultrasound

    I cannot adequately explain the shock that went through my body. I yelled, “Holy shit!” very loudly and I think I scared the tech, though she laughed good-naturedly.  Mark sort of half laughed and we held hands and stared as she checked each baby and explained that they were fraternal twins (not identical), which is the very best situation for twins because they each have their own nutrition sources. There was a chance, of course, that one twin could dominate and we could lose one, but they both were the exact same size and both had good heart rates and looked very healthy.

    As we left the ultrasound room, we were the last people left in the waiting room. The ladies at the front desk were joking a little about “seeing us again so soon,” when I told them about the twins. The news drew a massive crowd of nurses and workers. “How old is your baby?” “How old is your oldest?” “Oh my gosh that’s going to be a lot of work.”  I continued to shake.

    We went to see our doctor from there.

    I love our OB. She delivered both my girls and has a very good sense of humor and is very direct about everything. She has been a great fit for us and knows us very well.

    She came in, turned the lights off and in a very calm voice said, “It’s going to be ok.”

    “You say that so calmly,” I said. “That’s because I don’t have to take them home,” she said and smiled.

    She then started explaining what we are looking at as far as the pregnancy goes. We would be getting an ultrasound every doctor’s visit and going to the doctor a lot more frequently. We would be seeing a high-risk pregnancy doctor. We went over past pregnancy history and she took a big sigh of relief.

    “I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now,” she said, “But you’re the perfect candidate for twins. You are tall, which will give them more room to grow and hopefully allow you to carry them longer. You’re young, you had two healthy pregnancies before and you have a stable family environment.” She was right, of course, but I just couldn’t process it all.

    We got home and told Mark’s mom who didn’t believe us until we handed over the ultrasound picture. She picked up congratulatory dinner for us. I could barely eat a bite, but Mark managed to eat like six pieces of chicken, all the sides and two biscuits. During dinner Norah started this fake choking thing she does to get attention. It completely freaked me out. Then she started laughing at me when I panicked and I broke into a horrific sob right there at the dinner table… and then ran to the bathroom and hurled.

    The number of emotions racing through me were unbelievable. I was terrified. How in the heck were we going to pay for childcare for FOUR children? Would we need to get a bigger house? We definitely needed two bigger cars… and then two of EVERYTHING – two carseats, two cribs, two highchairs and OH MY GOSH I would have FOUR children ages four and under.  I was a shaking, rattling mess. I called my family later that evening and they were amazing. They lifted my spirits and reminded me of the awesome support network I’m surrounded by in town. My mom and my youngest sister are both teachers and don’t work during the summer and they will be ready and willing to help.

    I’m not going to lie, it took me nearly a full week to be truly happy about the news. I found myself driving Sarah to school and simultaneously freaking out and then sobbing with joy.

    Here I was, the girl who was suppose to need help to conceive children, accidentally pregnant with twins while I had a 3-year-old and 11-month-old at home. It was insanity. It was a blessing.  It was a miracle.

    I can honestly say now that Mark and I are overjoyed. Yes, we are still worried about paying for four children and providing all that they need. Yes, I am worried about their health and welfare already. But, I truly believe that after all the trouble we had conceiving Norah, that the fact that we’re having twins is no fluke. Our babies may be a surprise, but they are a gift from God and we are ready, willing and excited to take up this gift and do our absolute best.

  • The Surprise: Part 1

    Date: 2014.10.31 | Category: Baby, Family, Health, Home, Life, Love, Mark, Me, Pregnancy, Whoops | Response: 9

    I originally wrote this post a week after we found out we were expecting again in the first few days of September (before I knew the WHOLE story). I know I’ve been absent from blogging for a while, but sometimes when something like this is so life consuming and you’re not ready to share, it’s difficult to stare at that blank screen and write. So with this, get ready for my stream of ramblings to start up again!

    *****

    I need to write this down now, while the memory of that day still clings to me.

    But before I tell you about that day, let me tell you about the few days leading up to it. On Sunday I had been at my parents house hanging out with my family, celebrating my sister’s graduation with her Master’s degree and drinking a couple of glasses of wine. My heart started racing of its own accord, something not unfamiliar to me, but also something that hadn’t happened in a long time. I got it under control and chalked it up to the alcohol and sleep deprivation.

    Monday I went to my Piyo class, and during the sections of the class where we moved up and down, constantly changing elevation, my heart again started speeding out of control. I chalked it up to the elevation changes – even though I’ve been doing that class for a few months without any other problems before.

    Tuesday I went to lunch with my friend Angela, and we started talking about hormone changes, and I thought, “Oh that must be it, my cycle is about to start and that must be what’s causing these heart issues.”

    After lunch I checked my calendar to see when I was supposed to start and realized that I was very late – eight days late in fact. And then I remembered the last time my heart took off racing all the time: when I found out I was pregnant with Norah.

    I drove to the store and bought a two pack of pregnancy tests, but didn’t take them. Those things are kind of pricey and I didn’t want to waste one. I went home and put them in the cabinet and then settled down to a fun evening with my best friend who was in town for a few days. We drank wine, watched our girls play and had a great time. Shortly after she left that evening, Mark and I started arguing. Honestly I can’t even remember what it was about now, but that evening we had a long talk and he mentioned my short fuse and extreme impatience. I confessed to him then that I was worried because my cycle was late and my heart had been racing. He comforted me and reassured me that this wasn’t completely unusual and he was sure everything would be fine.

    Still though I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and worried all night. Finally at 5:30 that morning, I decided I needed the reassurance of that little negative sign so I could get on with my day without fretting.

    I went to the bathroom, took the test and watched as the positive sign immediately showed up. I sat there in a state of shock muttering not a few profanities. Finally, 15 minutes later I pulled myself together and went back into the bedroom. I told Mark I needed to turn on the lamp and handed over the test. His immediate response was a disbelieving and reverent, “No way.” Then he immediately broke out into a huge grin. And me? Well I burst into tears and started sobbing.

    It’s hard to describe what I was feeling at that moment, but I’ll take a stab at it. For one, I was in complete and utter shock. I have always wanted three children, but I did not expect them to be quite so close together. Norah was only 11 months old and still nursing after all. We had so much trouble conceiving Norah, that I figured when we did get ready to try for a third, we would have to prepare ourselves for another year-long journey of months of hope and disappointment. I had even prayed about it and come to complete acceptance and happiness with having two children. In fact, part of me already felt like we were done. God had given us these two amazing little girls and we felt complete; we were happy. We had even started planning a big family trip for 2015.

    And then there was the overwhelming feeling of having three, THREE children ages four and under, with two very much still in diapers. How could we possibly manage it strategically, mentally and financially?

    And then there was a feeling of complete and overwhelming amazement and disbelief. I was told, after all, many years ago that conceiving children would be difficult and we would likely need assistance. And here we were, despite the fact that we were actively avoiding pregnancy, pregnant so quickly with a THIRD baby.

    Mark gazed up at me in that early morning hour as we sat alone in our bed, grinning at me and said, “It’s a miracle.” And truly, it is.

    I pulled myself together as best I could and, in a daze, took Sarah to school. I stayed for morning assembly where I learned that it was the feast day of Saint Monica, the mother of Saint Augustine. During morning prayer, all the children said a prayer for their mothers and all mothers. I felt my knees get a little wobbly. Following an inner call to go to Mass, I stayed for the school Mass that morning. The priest started by telling all the children who Saint Monica was and how she prayed desperately for her son and asked that the children pray for all mothers everywhere who are worried and in distress.

    If anyone was looking, I’m sure they were wondering why that crazy lady standing by herself had tears running down her cheeks for most of Mass. But I left there with a new perspective and a stronger feeling of joy. And though I’ve existed in a state of shock and disbelief for a week now and continue to worry about logistics and finances, I am so very thankful, so very blessed and so very happy.

    We will, I pray, welcome our third baby to this world in April of 2015. Here’s to the start of another great adventure.

  • Like a Moth to the Flame…

    Date: 2014.08.05 | Category: Baby, Family, Health, Home, Life, Me, Norah, Sarah, Whoops | Response: 2

    I’m not sure if my brain has happily blocked out Sarah’s days of learning to stand independently, or if poor Norah takes after her mother in the clumsiness department. In the past week, Norah has hit her mouth to the point of bleeding not once, not twice, but THREE times. And there was another run in that left her with a nasty scratch by her eye.

    The first incident happened when Norah was standing up, holding onto one of her toys. In a burst of excitement, Sarah flew past her and accidentally knocked her over. I didn’t see it unfold, but I did hear loud, terrible screams of pain. I scooped Norah up and couldn’t get her to settle down. It took me a minute to realize there was blood pouring out of her mouth and on to my shoulder. My insides locked up.

    Normally blood doesn’t bother me, but in that moment, knowing it was my baby’s blood, I silently started to panic. Every time I tried to look in her mouth to see what was going on, the blood gushed anew and she screamed in pain. Meanwhile poor Sarah was busily trying to get my attention saying, “I’m sorry Mama! It was an accident Mama!” while trying to hold back her own tears.

    I was an absolute mess. I just knew Norah needed stitches or had somehow knocked her teeth loose. I packed her up and prepared to go to pediatric quick care. When I arrived though, there was a note on the door saying the place was temporarily closed. Cursing, I put Norah back in the car and drove her to the next closest quick care. By then, the blood flow had slowed down and I was able to get a look into her mouth. There was blood pooling around her teeth and my mind raced to the worst possible scenarios. Finally I pulled it together and thought to call a family friend who is a dentist.

    Bless him, he took my panicked call with grace, despite the fact that he was waiting in line at the bank and really just wanted to get home. He assured me that just because there was a lot of blood, that didn’t mean her teeth were going to fall out. In fact, at 10 months old, tooth roots aren’t fully formed and have plenty of time to heal on their own.

    I calmed down and drove home. After two hours of bleeding, things seem to finally stop and she had no problem shoveling down food and sucking her thumb.

    I realized the next morning that the injury was actually in her gums and that little piece of skin between the lip and the gums. As long as I didn’t try to lift her lip, all was well. I calmed down.

    Not to be outdone though, two days later Norah pulled up on the fireplace, let go and fell, hitting her mouth in the same exact spot on the way down. You guessed it: lots more blood and screaming. Fortunately this time I kept calm and managed to get her under control pretty quickly.

    Surely she would learn some self-preservation, you say? But alas, like a moth to the flame, Norah continued to be drawn to the brick fireplace. Two days after the second incident, she managed to scramble over to the fireplace, stand and fall, this time busting her bottom lip open. Cue more blood and screaming.

    By this point I began to feel like a terrible parent. I immediately logged on to Amazon and ordered cushiony edge protectors. My baby proofing the second go round has obviously been a little too lax, or maybe my baby is just a little too clumsy.

    And then yesterday mom picked Norah up from school early. The whole time she was at mom’s, she was an angel. But as soon as I got there? Well that baby crawled at high speed to the fireplace and slammed the corner of her eye into the bricks.

    My poor baby looks like she’s got a budding career in boxing.

  • In Too Deep

    Date: 2014.06.17 | Category: Family, Health, Life, Me, Norah, Sarah, Whoops | Response: 4

    Sarah started taking swimming lessons with her cousin Jacob last week. They are taking private lessons with a friend of mine from high school who has been teaching lessons for years. When we arrived at the pool, the kids had very different reactions.

    Sarah immediately panicked and refused to get in the water past the first step. Jacob plunged in like he was a merman come home. The lessons proceeded accordingly with Sarah screaming and crying when the instructor tried to convince her to get in, and Jacob attempting to march off to the deeper end of the pool on his own with no flotation devices. Pretty soon Jacob was on the kickboard, looking to all the world like the next Olympic champion. Sarah slowly warmed up, and by mid lesson was blowing bubbles in the water before crying that water got in her eyes.

    We kept an eye on them both the whole time from the poolside, while we simultaneously held babies and talked. Thank goodness we were watching because Jacob, in his confidence, went a little too far into the pool, while the teacher was on the opposite side of the pool with Sarah, and suddenly he was in too deep. For a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, we saw him start to scramble and go under. Shannon and I raced to the pool with babies in our arms.  I honestly can’t remember the next few moments exactly. All I know is that I saw Shannon jump in the pool while still holding Norah, and then I started to panic as I tried to figure out how to also rescue my baby while holding a one month old. Fortunately, my sister kept her cool and somehow managed to tilt and angle her body so Norah stayed above the water while she simultaneously rescued Jacob with the other arm. I immediately reached in and grabbed Norah from Shannon with my one free arm.

    Just like that the moment of panic was over and everyone was ok, at least physically.

    We quickly discovered, however, that our little merman no longer had any desire to get back in the swimming pool. We made him take one last lap around while holding on to the teacher, and he grudgingly obliged, but he was not happy.

    Fast forward to this past weekend. We went over to a friend of Shannon’s to go swimming. We had high hopes that we would get Jacob in a floaty and in the pool with his mama and show him everything was fine and safe – no such luck. Jacob wanted nothing to do with the pool – he refused to even get his feet wet. He cried and cried at our many attempts and suggestions to get him in. At one point he stepped in ants and still refused to dip his poor little ravaged feet in the water.

    Sarah, who is getting a little braver each day, sat on the top step of the pool, patted the space next to her and asked Jacob to sit by her. No luck.

    We go back for our next lesson on Thursday. I have complete faith that their instructor will help him overcome the fear as much as possible, but is there any way that you can think of that will help him get near the pool again?

  • A Cautionary Tale

    Date: 2014.02.06 | Category: Family, Home, Life, Me, Sarah, Whoops | Response: 5

    I hesitated to share this story because it makes me feel like a terrible mother. But like all stories that fall into that “terrible parent” category, sometimes sharing them will help someone else.

    Two nights ago, after visiting with my friend Susan who was in town from Biloxi, I headed home late with two tired girls in tow. When we got home, Sarah told me she needed to go to the potty. She’s gotten very good at going on her own, so I left her to it. About two minutes later I heard a very loud crash.

    I knew, deep down in my gut, that it was her dresser. I cannot even explain the sense of terror that filled me at that moment. She hadn’t started crying at that point and the worst possible thoughts were filling my head. When I was halfway down the hall running to her, she started crying and screaming.

    When I walked in the room, I saw the dresser tipped over, with her legs underneath it. But, we were lucky. The drawers slid out and caught the dresser from falling flat on her. But she was laying there crying with her legs from the thighs down pinned under one of the drawers. I immediately pulled her out, still thinking that we were about to make a trip to the emergency room. I started asking her what hurt, expecting her to say her legs. Instead, through tears, she managed to tell me her shoulder hurt.  Sure enough, she had a big scratch across her left shoulder. Her hip was banged up too, already bruising.

    She continued to cry, pointing to her dresser and shouted, “No no dresser! You hurt Sarah!”

    I should also probably mention that she was naked. I later pieced together that she had gotten her panties a little wet when she went to the bathroom. She took them off and attempted to get to a top drawer to get clean panties. To get to that drawer, she opened the bottom drawer and used that to climb up to the panty drawer. That is what tipped the dresser.

    Afterwards she was able to get up and walk on her own without complaining too much. She really just wanted a band-aid for her shoulder. It was bedtime, so I gave her some ibuprofen and put her in bed.

    The next morning we got her up and sent her to school. That afternoon I got a phone call from school that Sarah was walking funny on her right foot and screamed when they tried to take her shoes off or touch her foot. When I picked her up, she wouldn’t let me touch her foot. I finally convinced her to point to where it hurt – a spot between her big toe and her arch on the bottom side of her foot. It wasn’t bruised or swelling, but I still decided to get it checked out.

    We went to the doctor’s office this morning and she got a full inspection. They did verify that she was injured, but after pressing on it and feeling the foot, the doctor said it wasn’t broken and would likely heal up on its own.

    You better believe that Mark went to Lowe’s this morning and promptly secured her dresser to her wall. I gave the thing a good tug to make sure. We are also securing Norah’s.

    I think Sarah must have a very exhausted guardian angel tailing her most of the time. We were very very lucky.

    So please, take it from me, even if your kid has never attempted to climb your dressers, go ahead and secure them to the wall. It took Mark about five minutes to do so this morning and it could save a broken bone, or even a life!

  • In Which I Nearly Take Out the Colts New QB with a Stroller

    Date: 2012.06.29 | Category: Baby, Family, Friends, Health, Mark, Sarah, Travel, Weirdness, Whoops, Work | Response: 10

    Our first two days in Indy were fantastic. Despite recovering from the Shingles, Mark was super dad (or as he referred to himself, the Traveling Nanny) and took care of Sarah while I oh-ed and ah-ed over all the things I was learning about page layout, social media and InDesign at my conference.

    I should have known things were going too well. On day three, I came back to our hotel room at lunch and Mark was in a miserable daze, and because I’m obsessed with my child running fever, I carry a fancy ear thermometer with me at all times. Mark was running 102 and barely functioning. We put a call into the doctor’s office.

    Not to be outdone, Sarah took a spill of the bed and injured her wrist. She kept grabbing at it and I was convinced she had broken it. After about 30 minutes of watching her move it though, I hoped it would be ok.

    In the mean time, I had to figure out a way to get Sarah out of the room so Mark could rest. I looked at the map and saw that the Indianapolis zoo didn’t look too far away, so we packed up and started walking. It was a long, hot walk to the zoo, but we made it and Sarah loved it, especially the underwater critters.

    I could do a long post about the zoo, but there is so much more craziness to tell you.

    You see, after my long walk to, through and back from the zoo in the 90+ degree heat, I came back to an even more miserable husband. The doctor’s office finally called back and was calling in a prescription for what we all thought was a sinus infection. After frantically calling Tammy and having her track down a pharmacy in the vicinity, they call in the script to a CVS about 10 blocks away. I called in a pickup order to California Pizza Kitchen so I could pick it up on my way back and have food for everyone.

    So take a moment to picture this in your head: I’ve been walking miles and miles in 90 degree temps all day and I’m exhausted. Mark can barely function, so I have to load up Sarah in her stroller and take her with me. I know the general direction of where the pharmacy is, but I’m not exactly sure and I know they will be closing fairly soon.

    So out we go and I start power walking it to pharmacy, baby in tow. Somewhere along the way, I start noticing everyone is staring at these three guys walking in front of me. They look like they have athletic builds. Then people start saying, “Welcome to Indy” to the tallest of the three. Finally I hear some Jr. High aged kids say, “That’s Andrew Luck!”  I have no idea who Andrew Luck is, so I nearly mow the poor guy over with my stroller because he is in my way and I need to get to the pharmacy immediately.

    I run into the pharmacy and literally have three minutes to spare before they close. Whew.

    Exhausted, I made my way back to California Pizza Kitchen, where they have royally screwed up my order. Apparently they let me place an order for something they don’t even have on their menu and it got lost in the kitchen. I wanted to cry, but the hostess there was amazing, and so was the manager. In no time flat they had free drinks for me and Sarah, took half off our order and then volunteered to carry it back to the hotel for me because they felt so bad for my pathetic, sweaty self and my tired, hungry baby. California Pizza Kitchen gets a hundred gold stars in my book for making it right.

    I make it back to the hotel, get Mark his meds and food.

    I then say, “Mark, is there some sort of sporting event in town or something?”
    Mark: “Probably, why?”
    Me: “Well I almost mowed this guy over with my stroller, he looked like an athlete and everyone was telling him ‘Welcome to Indy.’ I think I heard someone call him Andrew Luck.”
    Mark: “You’re kidding me. That’s the Colts new quarterback and number one draft pick.”

    Can’t you just see the headlines now: Saints fan takes out Colts QB with stroller for bounty.

    I was exhausted, hot, and stressed. I wanted to cry. But in texting Cassie all this I took a step back and realized what a heck of a story it was. I mean, you don’t go to the zoo and bump into NFL quarterbacks every day.

  • Painful Week

    Date: 2011.06.17 | Category: Baby, Family, Health, Me, Sarah, Whoops | Response: 20

    This has been a rough week. There was an incident Monday where my distraction resulted in my daughter falling and hitting her head in the grocery store in front of everyone, their mama and their kids. Not only was I horrified at myself and beyond upset and worried about my daughter, but I was supremely embarrassed and worried that Child Protective Services would be called on us. Fortunately the fall was a short one (less than a foot and she went feet first) and Sarah was ok. We called the pediatrician as soon as I got home. Turns out that as long as she never lost consciousness or started vomiting she was pretty much ok. After all, she assured me, babies are extremely flexible and resilient.

    I still couldn’t stop beating myself up about it though, telling Mark over and over about what a terrible mother I was. He was amazing though. He managed to calm my hysterical self down while holding Sarah, making her laugh and talking to the nurse on the phone.

    I wasn’t going to share this because I was so horrified with myself. But after talking to my mom, my pediatrician and a couple of my mommy friends, it turns out every mom has a story about that time their baby hit their head and they freaked out. Moms who have fallen while carrying their kids, kids who fell off of something, kids who flipped their walkers. And all said the same thing, “I brought her into this world, and I thought for sure I was about to be the one who took her out.” They told me about the guilt and their thoughts, the same things I went through. And it made me feel better and more aware. I am so thankful she’s ok and it could have been much worse.

    *****

    To make matters worse, Sarah had to get her first round of shots Wednesday. Talk about breaking my heart. She was smiling and putting on  a show for the doctor and then they put shots in her poor little thighs. Of course she screamed her head off and was a groggy, grumpy girl the rest of the day.

    We did find out  that she’s tall (no big surprise there). 23.5 inches, 90th percentile. She weighed in at 11lbs, 9oz and was 75th percentile for weight and head circumference.*

    We also discussed “the fall.”

    I have to admit I was scared my pediatrician was going to lecture me about being an awful parent and tell me about horrible consequences, etc. But she was amazing. She handed me the tissue box while I told her what happened, then told me about her own daughter hitting her head when she was 18 months old. She looked Sarah over, pronounced her as “perfect from head to toe” and said she wasn’t worried about that short little fall at all.

    Thank God.

    *****
    * We celebrated Sarah’s growth by dancing to this song when we got home.

    You’re welcome.

  • Say WHAT?!

    Date: 2010.10.29 | Category: Mark, Photography, Whoops | Response: 12

    I can’t wait to finish telling you about BachelorGirl’s wedding. How beautiful she looked, how perfect they are together, how we managed despite overwhelming chaos thanks the event location. But, I kind of want to see what she says on her website first. I know there have been some back and forth issues with said event site and BG and as my dad always says,  “Don’t let your mouth overload your ass.” So, patience.

    Speaking of mouths saying things they shouldn’t, let me tell you about my last doctor appointment.

    You see we went for the baby’s 16-week appointment about two weeks ago. Everything was going just fine. We asked questions, they squirted that nasty goo on my stomach and chased the constantly on-the-move baby around my uterus until they locked down its heartbeat. The doctor measured my stomach (now if this isn’t every woman’s worst nightmare, I don’t know what is).

    I asked a few questions about pediatricians and back pain (OMG it HURTS SO BAD). But everything was pretty normal.

    The doc was getting ready to walk out when Mark casually said, “One more thing.”

    The doc paused at the door and looked at him.

    Smiling, Mark said, “How’s her weight?”

    WTF Mark.

    The doctor and I both glared at him like an alien had just dropped out of the sky, landed on his head and was currently sucking out his brain.

    The doctor spoke first. She said, “Um, someone’s sleeping on the couch tonight.”

    I stared at him with mounting fury and said, “Mark, SERIOUSLY?”

    At this point he realized he had messed up. He started stumbling, “Oh no. I mean. Um. It’s just that she’s been so worried about gaining weight and I wanted her to be reassured.”

    The doctor started laughing and said, “She’s only gained 5 pounds, she’s fine.”

    The doctor laughed, shook her head and walked out into the hallway where I’m sure she related the whole story to everyone she worked with. Heck, I would too.

    I told Mark after she left the room that next time, if I were worried, I would ask. To leave matters of pregnancy weight gain to me and the doc.

    Maybe I don’t feel so bad about putting that dent in his truck bumper after all? ;)