I decided it was super important to start the summer off right. I made the girls get up before eight, there was no tv at all for the kids and they did chores first thing. My cousin has a rule with her kids where they have to eat breakfast by nine am. I've decided it's a good idea and I'm doing the same.
Last year I had a terrible problem with the kids casually moving around the eleven, the same time we head towards the park for lunch. The girls would complain that they didn't have breakfast and had to eat first. Apparently the time isn't important to them as much as what the meal is labeled. So I'm hoping by enforcing this breakfast by nine, it'll encourage the girls to get moving and alleviate the problems we had last summer. Since they'll be moving, and I will too, I'll have to feed the boys it shouldn't be to hard to get the kids going on their chores then.
The girls have already been told that whether they get to go to the park or to the movies depends on getting their chores done.
I also want to get in the habit of doing school work each day but reading and school work is much easier to get the kids working on then chores. So the chores first thing in the am will probably work best.
Ean announced that he wasn't doing what I had asked him too. I spanked him. I really try to not use spankings and if anyone can give me a heads up on a book or technique I can try, I'll gladly look into it. I hate spanking but sometimes nothing else works for Ean. I thought Kate was stubborn but I think Ean wins.
Speaking of Ean, that kid is still getting into everything. My purse now sits in the pantry because Ean can't get into the pantry if it's latched. Little turd took my visor and scribbled out all my numbers I had saved on it.
*sigh*
Good thing I love him more then words can describe.
So anyhoo, that's how I have the days outlined for summer. Hopefully it works. I know that if left on their own they'd play all day and that's not going to work. I want them to play but I'd be doing my children a grave disservice if I brought them up to be selfish people that weren't responsible and didn't know how to take care of themselves. I love them to much to do that to them.
I guarantee Kate doesn't see it that way. She was grumbling that summer is for fun not for chores! Kate would love to wile away her summer in sprinklers and friends without a care in the world. Of course Kate thinks that setting and clearing the dinner table is a secret plot to ruin her entire day. Oh the drama. So this routine should be especially good for Kate and Ean.
I bought the summer movie tickets. A great deal, each series ticket is only $6.50 for eleven weeks worth of movies, different movie each week. There's also two friends tickets on each series. It's a great way to break up the week and pretty inexpensive. It'll cost more next year when I buy the twins too. This year I only had to buy four tickets.
We're doing swim lessons in July and the first half of August. Last year we did June and July but the kids were so grouchy in August, I think this will work better, allowing them to have more fun stuff at the end of the summer. Of course it's hotter in August and the kids will probably appreciate the water more.
There's also summer lunches. From the beginning of June until mid August we can get the kids lunch at the park. It's a federal program offered to all kids 18 and younger. It's from the same branch that does free and reduced lunches during the school year. With five children it makes a big difference in our budget and since it's done at local parks the kids have a chance to meet friends and burn off some energy.
I'm hoping I don't lose any twins. They are so hard to keep track of these days.
The only thing left is sunscreen. Ean dumped out what I had so I need to buy more. Those fair headed kids of mine, we'll have to be super careful this year.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Kate's dance recital
Wednesday May 28th, 2008 was the night of Kate's big recital. She was so excited she couldn't stand it! First things first, I worked all day long to have dinner ready by four so I could have time to do hair, make-up and still feed everyone. Kate was thrilled with having pepperoni pizza, her favorite.
It's rather odd how quickly she forgets that I never make what she likes when it's pizza night. She's downright cheerful about food but when we don't have pizza every night she quickly hates my meals all over again.
I've told her before someday she'll appreciate growing up with a mom that can cook and I know when that girl marries her husband will appreciate a wife that can cook. I need to get going on teaching her now! *laugh*
The last recital I bought a take and bake pizza but since we have no extra funds, that option was out. Hard to believe but the last recital was only in January. Kent was eager to skip this one but the whole purpose of dance class is to have a recital and show what you've learned! Dance lessons this semester were provided by the generosity of my mother. We flat out couldn't afford them this time round.
I did scrounge up a few dollars for a cheap lipstick and nail polish that was taken out of my purse and dumped on my carpet the next day. If I only had a crystal ball to predict what my middle son will do. Although I should have anticipated trouble, he was insanely jealous of his sister getting her nails done. Little boys do that when they have big sisters instead of brothers. You have to admit, colored nails are cool!
I painted Ean's nails too but drew the line at putting make-up on him.
Then it was time for Kate's hair. When I did her hair for the last recital, I had to cement it into placed. It was cute on stage but I was really hoping for a more natural look so I tried using less hair gunk. The curls fell out almost immediately.
Crap.
I put more hair stuff in, I curled her hair with a curling iron and I ended up with something a bit more poofy then her natural hair with a few ringlets around her face. I did make-up and can I just say I hate doing makeup on a seven year old. She scrunches and moves right when I need her to hold still. I ended up with mascara right under her eyebrow and eye liner smudged well below her lower lashes. I repaired what I could but dang, thank goodness I don't have to do that very often. There was also a wee bit of running over to the neighbors to share various cosmetics. There's definitely a bonus to having girls share a dance class.
Kate was disappointed when I wouldn't allow her to ride her bike in her dance costume. With her having less then a week of being without training wheels, I could just see a crash and her dance clothes getting ruined. It was just better to not let her.
With Jane's help I managed to get the twins ready. She was invaluable that night. I started telling Ean to get his shoes on a good four hours before we had to leave and well, he never got them. I was frantically getting twins ready, heating Kent's dinner because he'd have to eat it in the car and Ean's telling me you do it! every time I told him to get his shoes. He went to the recital barefoot. It was rainy and a little chilly but sheesh, I can't do everything!
We sat right in the front, Kent's mom saved us seats. I don't know why but for some reason Kate's always in the back row. I'll have to ask next semester why that is. Kate did fantastic. Here she is in her costume and all dressed up.
She had fun and enjoyed herself and really, that's what counts. *smile* Good thing her mommy doesn't listen when daddy said Lets just bag the whole recital this time around. *laugh*
It's rather odd how quickly she forgets that I never make what she likes when it's pizza night. She's downright cheerful about food but when we don't have pizza every night she quickly hates my meals all over again.
I've told her before someday she'll appreciate growing up with a mom that can cook and I know when that girl marries her husband will appreciate a wife that can cook. I need to get going on teaching her now! *laugh*
The last recital I bought a take and bake pizza but since we have no extra funds, that option was out. Hard to believe but the last recital was only in January. Kent was eager to skip this one but the whole purpose of dance class is to have a recital and show what you've learned! Dance lessons this semester were provided by the generosity of my mother. We flat out couldn't afford them this time round.
I did scrounge up a few dollars for a cheap lipstick and nail polish that was taken out of my purse and dumped on my carpet the next day. If I only had a crystal ball to predict what my middle son will do. Although I should have anticipated trouble, he was insanely jealous of his sister getting her nails done. Little boys do that when they have big sisters instead of brothers. You have to admit, colored nails are cool!
I painted Ean's nails too but drew the line at putting make-up on him.
Then it was time for Kate's hair. When I did her hair for the last recital, I had to cement it into placed. It was cute on stage but I was really hoping for a more natural look so I tried using less hair gunk. The curls fell out almost immediately.
Crap.
I put more hair stuff in, I curled her hair with a curling iron and I ended up with something a bit more poofy then her natural hair with a few ringlets around her face. I did make-up and can I just say I hate doing makeup on a seven year old. She scrunches and moves right when I need her to hold still. I ended up with mascara right under her eyebrow and eye liner smudged well below her lower lashes. I repaired what I could but dang, thank goodness I don't have to do that very often. There was also a wee bit of running over to the neighbors to share various cosmetics. There's definitely a bonus to having girls share a dance class.
Kate was disappointed when I wouldn't allow her to ride her bike in her dance costume. With her having less then a week of being without training wheels, I could just see a crash and her dance clothes getting ruined. It was just better to not let her.
With Jane's help I managed to get the twins ready. She was invaluable that night. I started telling Ean to get his shoes on a good four hours before we had to leave and well, he never got them. I was frantically getting twins ready, heating Kent's dinner because he'd have to eat it in the car and Ean's telling me you do it! every time I told him to get his shoes. He went to the recital barefoot. It was rainy and a little chilly but sheesh, I can't do everything!
We sat right in the front, Kent's mom saved us seats. I don't know why but for some reason Kate's always in the back row. I'll have to ask next semester why that is. Kate did fantastic. Here she is in her costume and all dressed up.
She had fun and enjoyed herself and really, that's what counts. *smile* Good thing her mommy doesn't listen when daddy said Lets just bag the whole recital this time around. *laugh*
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
I may be bald soon.
It was just one of those days. You know, the type of day where a child seems determined to cause as much mischief as possible. To break every known rule, take all the batteries out of all the remotes. Get into my purse, take all my credit cards into the back yard. Swipe a flashlight from his daddy's dresser. Steal the storage room keys to search for pop. Turned on the sprinkler in the back yard not once or twice but three stinking times!! This was after a rainstorm that completely soaked the yard.
Seriously it was never ending!!
How am I suppose to survive summer? He hasn't been out of school for a week! Yes I'm talking the red headed pre-schooler. The menace that's paralyzed our home with a complete lock down.
The girls are done Thursday, that might help his behavior but damn, it could make it worse. That whole competing for attention with my four other siblings deal.
I don't think our yard is that boring. We have a trampoline, a swing set, a great big ol tractor tire to dig in. There's a complete fleet of tonka trucks in the backyard. Thank you my mom who KNOWS how to shop for little boys. *laugh* There's also the usual collection of balls and outdoor toys. There is really a lot to do.
It's not like my poor brother. His new house, he has one potted tree, no yard and a place to park a car he can't even afford to buy. My brother live in Japan where a house half the size of my home costs three times as much. There's simply not the room for yards. I don't know how my bro manages with his three kids in that teeny space. I wish I could show my children how much they really have. I can't help but think they'd appreciate our home, yard, garden, toys, even their bicycles if they realized how many struggle to even eat. Contrary to what they might perceive, these kids really don't know what true hunger is like.
As interesting as these thoughts are to myself, they don't help with my original problem. I have one four year old hell bent on investigating every single item in the house in forbidden zones. I do realize in making certain area's forbidden it becomes more enticing to a child yet we can't afford to take the chance on him destroying more things.
It can be argued that if it's just a thing then we don't really need it. However the bike tools need to be kept intact so we can keep our fleet of hand me down rust buckets running for the kids. We can't afford to buy new and really at this age, they don't need nice bikes. There are photos that have been destroyed that can't be replaced. That's family history down the tubes.
I originally started blogging because I have some arthritis in my hands and writing for long periods of times just hurts my knuckles and fingers. Ean's destroyed some books or parts of books that are part of family history and I hadn't thought of it at the time but blogging has the added benefit of putting our family history down in a form that can't be destroyed by that kid. Kent copies what I write and puts it in our family history but if that gets destroyed, we can always copy it again.
Back to Ean, I'd find some old tools for him to play with except I worry about the twins getting hurt, or Ean unintentionally hurting the twins with screwdrivers or hammers. Ean is still pretty young and doesn't have control of his temper, he lashes out when frustrated. Pretty normal for a young four year old, but we don't want to arm him with a hammer when his two year old twin brothers are wandering around.
Kate had a dance recital tomorrow. I pretty much have to spend the whole day making sure everyone and everything is ready to go the second Kent comes home. I hope and pray we have a better day then today because I can't chase Ean and get Kate ready at the same time.
I will be bald from pulling my hair out!
Seriously it was never ending!!
How am I suppose to survive summer? He hasn't been out of school for a week! Yes I'm talking the red headed pre-schooler. The menace that's paralyzed our home with a complete lock down.
The girls are done Thursday, that might help his behavior but damn, it could make it worse. That whole competing for attention with my four other siblings deal.
I don't think our yard is that boring. We have a trampoline, a swing set, a great big ol tractor tire to dig in. There's a complete fleet of tonka trucks in the backyard. Thank you my mom who KNOWS how to shop for little boys. *laugh* There's also the usual collection of balls and outdoor toys. There is really a lot to do.
It's not like my poor brother. His new house, he has one potted tree, no yard and a place to park a car he can't even afford to buy. My brother live in Japan where a house half the size of my home costs three times as much. There's simply not the room for yards. I don't know how my bro manages with his three kids in that teeny space. I wish I could show my children how much they really have. I can't help but think they'd appreciate our home, yard, garden, toys, even their bicycles if they realized how many struggle to even eat. Contrary to what they might perceive, these kids really don't know what true hunger is like.
As interesting as these thoughts are to myself, they don't help with my original problem. I have one four year old hell bent on investigating every single item in the house in forbidden zones. I do realize in making certain area's forbidden it becomes more enticing to a child yet we can't afford to take the chance on him destroying more things.
It can be argued that if it's just a thing then we don't really need it. However the bike tools need to be kept intact so we can keep our fleet of hand me down rust buckets running for the kids. We can't afford to buy new and really at this age, they don't need nice bikes. There are photos that have been destroyed that can't be replaced. That's family history down the tubes.
I originally started blogging because I have some arthritis in my hands and writing for long periods of times just hurts my knuckles and fingers. Ean's destroyed some books or parts of books that are part of family history and I hadn't thought of it at the time but blogging has the added benefit of putting our family history down in a form that can't be destroyed by that kid. Kent copies what I write and puts it in our family history but if that gets destroyed, we can always copy it again.
Back to Ean, I'd find some old tools for him to play with except I worry about the twins getting hurt, or Ean unintentionally hurting the twins with screwdrivers or hammers. Ean is still pretty young and doesn't have control of his temper, he lashes out when frustrated. Pretty normal for a young four year old, but we don't want to arm him with a hammer when his two year old twin brothers are wandering around.
Kate had a dance recital tomorrow. I pretty much have to spend the whole day making sure everyone and everything is ready to go the second Kent comes home. I hope and pray we have a better day then today because I can't chase Ean and get Kate ready at the same time.
I will be bald from pulling my hair out!
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Kate can ride a two wheeler!
At the age of seven, we took off her training wheels. It took her a whole two seconds to figure it out!!! Holy Toledo, absolutely amazing!!
You have to understand that it took Jane forever to figure out bike riding. Jane was about a year older then Kate is now but she was so afraid, she had a hard time balancing, it took months to get her riding. What finally worked was putting her on Kate's bike without the training wheels and then allowing her to go. Because the bike was so short she could put her feet down flat on the ground when she was in trouble.
Hard on her sneakers but it did the trick and the girl learned how to ride.
Kate's a daredevil in her heart but she's learned to be timid from her older sis. Kate use to climb up the top of the woodpile at eighteen months. From a year until three or so, she use to climb on the arm of our rocking love seat and surf. The child was fearless! It was frustrating when she started to act timid because in my heart I knew that wasn't who she was. It was very freeing to see her just go and ride without a care in the world her first try.
Don't get me wrong, Kate has her problems too.
*cough*notdoingschoolwork*cough*
The biggest one of late has been this raiding of the fridge and cupboards. This actually is an old problem. That child is sneaky with food. She has been since she was teeny. I really worry because I've struggled in the past with my eating, I've binged and starved many years ago and I've worried and struggled trying to instill healthy eating habits in my children. They all eat a wide range of vegetables well beyond iceberg lettuce and baby carrots. They all eat sugar pea pods like candy, ask for seconds and sometimes thirds when served broccoli. I know I'm doing something right there, but I see my food behaviors/struggles in my children and it scares me.
My dad was an alcoholic. He never changed before his death, he couldn't change. Coming from a whole family of alcoholics, there's a strong correlation between my unhealthy attitudes with food and how addicts behave. Both food and alcohol are artificial ways to avoid dealing with real feelings.
I don't want to project onto my children but honestly it scares me to see Kate sneaking cookies and not just one or two but a dozen. She feels compelled to eat and she's not honest when she does eat.
There's also a certain amount of mischief from the small boys. Just browsing in the fridge for toys, oranges make great balls you know.
All this prompted my husband to put a padlock on the fridge. I want the kids to understand that they can have snacks but they have to ask. We were having one pound blocks of cheese disappearing. With the prices of groceries, we just can't have that. The kids need to be respectful and not wasteful. I hope I can do that without my personal struggles getting in the way.
In the meantime, Kate already has plans for tomorrow. She's riding her bike.
You have to understand that it took Jane forever to figure out bike riding. Jane was about a year older then Kate is now but she was so afraid, she had a hard time balancing, it took months to get her riding. What finally worked was putting her on Kate's bike without the training wheels and then allowing her to go. Because the bike was so short she could put her feet down flat on the ground when she was in trouble.
Hard on her sneakers but it did the trick and the girl learned how to ride.
Kate's a daredevil in her heart but she's learned to be timid from her older sis. Kate use to climb up the top of the woodpile at eighteen months. From a year until three or so, she use to climb on the arm of our rocking love seat and surf. The child was fearless! It was frustrating when she started to act timid because in my heart I knew that wasn't who she was. It was very freeing to see her just go and ride without a care in the world her first try.
Don't get me wrong, Kate has her problems too.
*cough*notdoingschoolwork*cough*
The biggest one of late has been this raiding of the fridge and cupboards. This actually is an old problem. That child is sneaky with food. She has been since she was teeny. I really worry because I've struggled in the past with my eating, I've binged and starved many years ago and I've worried and struggled trying to instill healthy eating habits in my children. They all eat a wide range of vegetables well beyond iceberg lettuce and baby carrots. They all eat sugar pea pods like candy, ask for seconds and sometimes thirds when served broccoli. I know I'm doing something right there, but I see my food behaviors/struggles in my children and it scares me.
My dad was an alcoholic. He never changed before his death, he couldn't change. Coming from a whole family of alcoholics, there's a strong correlation between my unhealthy attitudes with food and how addicts behave. Both food and alcohol are artificial ways to avoid dealing with real feelings.
I don't want to project onto my children but honestly it scares me to see Kate sneaking cookies and not just one or two but a dozen. She feels compelled to eat and she's not honest when she does eat.
There's also a certain amount of mischief from the small boys. Just browsing in the fridge for toys, oranges make great balls you know.
All this prompted my husband to put a padlock on the fridge. I want the kids to understand that they can have snacks but they have to ask. We were having one pound blocks of cheese disappearing. With the prices of groceries, we just can't have that. The kids need to be respectful and not wasteful. I hope I can do that without my personal struggles getting in the way.
In the meantime, Kate already has plans for tomorrow. She's riding her bike.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Applesauce spice cake or Carrot cake?
This is what I asked Ean at about one pm. His birthday is Monday and I wanted to make his birthday cake. My little boy that's turning four whole years old looked at me for about a second before blurting out with great enthusiasm CHOCOLATE!!!!
What's a mom to do?
Since I had no desire (or money, *laugh*) to leave the house and buy cocoa powder, I borrowed some from my neighbor. Ean proudly helped with all the measuring and stirring of his birthday cake. He greased the pans, measured the flour and sugar and was very upset when I did the leavening because he's not very precise and I did want the cake to rise like it's suppose to.
After all, if you're a teensy bit short of flour or sugar, you're cake won't fail. I added more flour while mixing to make up an obvious shortage, but there's not much you can do if it doesn't rise in the oven.
I didn't have enough cocoa for the frosting so I made peppermint frosting and Ean stressed the importance of his birthday cake having rainbow sprinkles on it. Sounds good to me! So after frosting I sprinkled rainbow sprinkles liberally over the top. The cake now sits in the freezer waiting for Monday. I still need to wrap the kid's lightning McQueen themed presents.
Kent thinks I went overboard and I probably did but dang, sometimes I feel so bad for my true middle child sandwiched between bossy older sisters and time consuming twin brothers. Ean has a ball and not just any ball but a really tough rubber ball that reminds me of the dodge balls we played with as kids during recess. It has heavy duty patterned rubber that you'd have to stab with a steak knife to pierce. In this house that's important, my kids are pretty rough on stuff, it has to be built to last.
I also bought him washable markers. I wasn't born yesterday and Ean did come after two artistic sisters that have already left their mark in pretty much every room in the house. I also included crayons and a pencil box in the hopes that we could keep them safe from the girls who routinely scatter stuff all over the house. The twins have eaten more crayons then any other child simply because the girls neglect to put them away. So, I plan on labeling the box and hopefully this works, at least for a little will.
I also got Ean several Lightning McQueen posters to color. He doesn't get to color very often, his sisters often take over what he's trying to do. Our neighbor bought him a lightning McQeen shirt, bless her wonderful heart. Add in the towel (with you know who printed on one side!) and a couple of small cars, Ean's got a pretty decent haul. Nothing truly extravagant but he should feel pretty darn special.
Isn't that the point?
He's a good kid. Oh he frustrates me, his curiosity often gets the better of him. He explores, experiments and oh the energy that child has! But he's sincere and loving too. He's bluntly honest like most children his age and man does he say the funniest things. He was the least verbal of all the kids (Twins included) at age of two, speaking maybe three words total so I truly am enjoying him as the world of language has opened up.
Of course he also tells me NO and LET ME DO IT! He's figured out that words have power but he hasn't figured out that messages can also be understood softly. Then again, his sisters haven't figured that out either and they've got years more experience then he does.
In the past year he's gone from being being developmentally behind to being caught up. It's amazing, if he was a year old he'd be ready for kindergarten in the fall. He may be my most prepared kid yet, of course he has the most intervention. Darn ears were broken and I didn't even know it. Tubes are his friend, it's hard to learn to talk when you can't hear.
So now I know, when faced with applesauce spice or carrot cake the answer is of course chocolate.
What's a mom to do?
Since I had no desire (or money, *laugh*) to leave the house and buy cocoa powder, I borrowed some from my neighbor. Ean proudly helped with all the measuring and stirring of his birthday cake. He greased the pans, measured the flour and sugar and was very upset when I did the leavening because he's not very precise and I did want the cake to rise like it's suppose to.
After all, if you're a teensy bit short of flour or sugar, you're cake won't fail. I added more flour while mixing to make up an obvious shortage, but there's not much you can do if it doesn't rise in the oven.
I didn't have enough cocoa for the frosting so I made peppermint frosting and Ean stressed the importance of his birthday cake having rainbow sprinkles on it. Sounds good to me! So after frosting I sprinkled rainbow sprinkles liberally over the top. The cake now sits in the freezer waiting for Monday. I still need to wrap the kid's lightning McQueen themed presents.
Kent thinks I went overboard and I probably did but dang, sometimes I feel so bad for my true middle child sandwiched between bossy older sisters and time consuming twin brothers. Ean has a ball and not just any ball but a really tough rubber ball that reminds me of the dodge balls we played with as kids during recess. It has heavy duty patterned rubber that you'd have to stab with a steak knife to pierce. In this house that's important, my kids are pretty rough on stuff, it has to be built to last.
I also bought him washable markers. I wasn't born yesterday and Ean did come after two artistic sisters that have already left their mark in pretty much every room in the house. I also included crayons and a pencil box in the hopes that we could keep them safe from the girls who routinely scatter stuff all over the house. The twins have eaten more crayons then any other child simply because the girls neglect to put them away. So, I plan on labeling the box and hopefully this works, at least for a little will.
I also got Ean several Lightning McQueen posters to color. He doesn't get to color very often, his sisters often take over what he's trying to do. Our neighbor bought him a lightning McQeen shirt, bless her wonderful heart. Add in the towel (with you know who printed on one side!) and a couple of small cars, Ean's got a pretty decent haul. Nothing truly extravagant but he should feel pretty darn special.
Isn't that the point?
He's a good kid. Oh he frustrates me, his curiosity often gets the better of him. He explores, experiments and oh the energy that child has! But he's sincere and loving too. He's bluntly honest like most children his age and man does he say the funniest things. He was the least verbal of all the kids (Twins included) at age of two, speaking maybe three words total so I truly am enjoying him as the world of language has opened up.
Of course he also tells me NO and LET ME DO IT! He's figured out that words have power but he hasn't figured out that messages can also be understood softly. Then again, his sisters haven't figured that out either and they've got years more experience then he does.
In the past year he's gone from being being developmentally behind to being caught up. It's amazing, if he was a year old he'd be ready for kindergarten in the fall. He may be my most prepared kid yet, of course he has the most intervention. Darn ears were broken and I didn't even know it. Tubes are his friend, it's hard to learn to talk when you can't hear.
So now I know, when faced with applesauce spice or carrot cake the answer is of course chocolate.
Friday, May 9, 2008
It's official, Jane is no longer elegible for special services.
Basically Jane scored just above the cut off. While this means she's definitely improved academically she's not at the point where either I or the teachers involved at the meeting feel comfortable with her full-time in a regular classroom.
Her I.Q. measures 88 right now. This is the very low end of normal. However I.Q.'s at this age still are growing and she has the potential to measure much higher in a few years with the right kind of instruction and supervision. Oddly she scored dramatically well at non-language related problem solving. It was suggested that the girl be an engineer with how she thinks. I'm keeping that in mind. *smile* She scored just above impaired (so no qualifying) with language reception, auditory processing and very low with math skills.
Legally she no longer can have an I.E.P. This is very scary for me. An I.E.P. guarantee's that legally a school has to provide services for the child. Instead she'll be under an I-plan. Mostly it's a guideline the school follows but the school can change it and other schools don't have to honor it. Actually it's a bit of a concern but the local middle schools are behind in meeting the needs of these kids that can slip through the cracks. Luckily we have a full two years before Jane's in middle school. Hopefully we can get her up to speed where she can function in a regular classroom by seventh grade.
No matter what happens with our income, we need to stay in this house in this neighborhood for at least two more years so Jane can get this help that the staff at her current school is willing to give her.
If it had been just a few years ago, once she failed to qualify they would have just cut her loose. Thankfully they aren't going to do that this time.
So the plan, Jane will no longer have scheduled resource room. However where her speech teacher has been her "caseworker" the resource room teacher will take over this job. The RR teacher will be in charge of Jane's math classes since that's where she's the most behind. She scored at about a second grade level. Where she's been going to resource for reading, she'll now do that in her regular classroom however the RR teacher will check Jane's assignments daily to make sure she's written down what she needs to do.
Oh, yeah, Jane will have an assignment book to help her keep track of what she's doing in school. This will have to be signed by me after school so I can help keep her on track at home. She's really good at spacing assignments, so this will give her a coping mechanism as school gets more complicated.
I felt good about the meeting.
I dropped by Kate's classroom to check and see how she's doing. Apparently her behavior is better but she's still not completing assignments. I stressed that she needed to bring them home. The twins are napping when Kate comes home from school and I have that time set aside for one on one school work with Kate. I'm glad I took the extra minute to check in with her teacher.
That leaves just Ean. It looks like he won't qualify for Early Learning next year but I'm pretty sure he'll get into head start. What they'll do is pull him out for speech while he's in head start.
WHEW~ I don't know why the Lord has placed these particular children in our lives but I do know they're suppose to be here and with God's help Kent and I can help them reach their potential.
Her I.Q. measures 88 right now. This is the very low end of normal. However I.Q.'s at this age still are growing and she has the potential to measure much higher in a few years with the right kind of instruction and supervision. Oddly she scored dramatically well at non-language related problem solving. It was suggested that the girl be an engineer with how she thinks. I'm keeping that in mind. *smile* She scored just above impaired (so no qualifying) with language reception, auditory processing and very low with math skills.
Legally she no longer can have an I.E.P. This is very scary for me. An I.E.P. guarantee's that legally a school has to provide services for the child. Instead she'll be under an I-plan. Mostly it's a guideline the school follows but the school can change it and other schools don't have to honor it. Actually it's a bit of a concern but the local middle schools are behind in meeting the needs of these kids that can slip through the cracks. Luckily we have a full two years before Jane's in middle school. Hopefully we can get her up to speed where she can function in a regular classroom by seventh grade.
No matter what happens with our income, we need to stay in this house in this neighborhood for at least two more years so Jane can get this help that the staff at her current school is willing to give her.
If it had been just a few years ago, once she failed to qualify they would have just cut her loose. Thankfully they aren't going to do that this time.
So the plan, Jane will no longer have scheduled resource room. However where her speech teacher has been her "caseworker" the resource room teacher will take over this job. The RR teacher will be in charge of Jane's math classes since that's where she's the most behind. She scored at about a second grade level. Where she's been going to resource for reading, she'll now do that in her regular classroom however the RR teacher will check Jane's assignments daily to make sure she's written down what she needs to do.
Oh, yeah, Jane will have an assignment book to help her keep track of what she's doing in school. This will have to be signed by me after school so I can help keep her on track at home. She's really good at spacing assignments, so this will give her a coping mechanism as school gets more complicated.
I felt good about the meeting.
I dropped by Kate's classroom to check and see how she's doing. Apparently her behavior is better but she's still not completing assignments. I stressed that she needed to bring them home. The twins are napping when Kate comes home from school and I have that time set aside for one on one school work with Kate. I'm glad I took the extra minute to check in with her teacher.
That leaves just Ean. It looks like he won't qualify for Early Learning next year but I'm pretty sure he'll get into head start. What they'll do is pull him out for speech while he's in head start.
WHEW~ I don't know why the Lord has placed these particular children in our lives but I do know they're suppose to be here and with God's help Kent and I can help them reach their potential.
Welfare, mischief and general update.
Well my husband is still job hunting. No luck yet. He actually had an interview about six weeks ago but he wasn't hired. Honestly, he believes he wasn't hired because he's over qualified and he's probably right.
We're in an awkward situation right now. Due to a series of unfortunate circumstances my husband is trying to make a go of a business that was given every possible disadvantage there is. There's a whole history in why he's there, lots of family loyalty, worry for his parents and their financial situation and an evil sales representative that had it out for my FIL, the former owner of this business.
So my husband is trying to get this turkey going, and it's getting there, slowly but he's job hunting at the same time. While job hunting three other major businesses in town have either closed or had major layoffs. Sorry, restructuring *eye roll* That leaves hundreds looking for jobs in a town of only fifty thousand. Not a good situation.
However after much thought and prayer we've decided we need to stay where we're at. We have a fixed mortgage rate of four and a half percent. We had to refinance twice to get it that low, it was totally worth it. We also only have a decade left on our mortgage. Our first mortgage and first refinance on this house were thirty year loans. The second refinance, we got a sweet fifteen year mortgage with that uber low interest rate.
We talked about moving, this house is small for us. There are three very small bedrooms upstairs and two bedrooms downstairs. It's about two thousand square feet and we use pretty much every inch. The biggest bedroom downstairs is crammed with Kent's office and my sewing stuff. At one time we each had our own rooms and it was wonderful! But the Lord had plans for us and sent the twins, we put in an egress window in the smaller bedroom and the girls are now downstairs. My husband and I are sharing space. It would go a lot smoother if he'd stop stacking random computer parts on my fabric stash.
When times were better and we talked of moving I always had the same thought come into my head. That thought was the advice we've been given by our latter day prophets on living within our means. That means housing too and now I have a better understanding of why we've been given that council.
It's not just living within our means, it's an attitude of frugality that we should embrace. Saving money for emergencies, having a food storage, growing a garden when possible. It's a way of life and we've tried to follow that way of life.
I'll be the first to admit it's saved our cans the past five months. During this time we've had no income, we've payed all our bills, utilities and mortgage without help. We've also dipped into our food storage relying on it.
We have a decent food storage, we have wheat, dehydrated potatoes and other vegetables, dehydrated fruit, tvp, canned meat, veggies, fruit. We have oats, corn, rice and somewhere in the basement we have two five gallon buckets with sugar in it. That's not enough for our family of seven if we're talking a year but throw in our dozen 12 pound buckets of honey and about 40 pounds of molasses, we can stretch it out quite a bit.
We suffer a bit from pride, we weren't going to ask for any help at all. However I confided to a friend about our situation the day before she became Relief Society president. The Lord works in mysterious ways. *wink* She came to us with a food order and we've been on church welfare for three months now. Since our savings and tax returns have payed the bills, we've been receiving help with groceries.
At first we were really uncomfortable with this. After all, we do have our food storage and isn't that what's it's for? Then Kent went to a Stake welfare meeting and learned the Stake President has made it his mission to get help to families in potential financial trouble before they lose homes and the church can no longer help. Why, that's us!
We immediately felt relief. We've humbled ourselves and have gratefully received groceries from the church.
There's a few things I won't get though. We are on WIC and with the three little boys we get fourteen gallons of milk a month. If we run short, I insist we use our dry milk. Kent really doesn't like it, but that's why we have it! I feel very strongly about not taking more then we need and it's been a huge blessing. Of course I hope and pray soon we can move on.
Understanding our situation can help you appreciate the frustration I feel when my children waste food. It's bad enough a cereal box isn't put up and the twins take it out in the yard and feed the ants but sometimes my children treat food like it's a toy.
The brand of dehydrated milk we buy is called Moo's Milk, it's pretty tasty actually, much better then the powdered milk I grew up with in the seventies. Like all dairy products, the price has gone up. Where we last bought it for $76.00 a fifty pound bag it's now up over a hundred bucks a bag. That makes what we have extra precious. Every little bit is gold when you have no income coming in.
So when my almost four year old came to me to ask for a glass of kool-aid and I noticed a fine ivory powder over his hands, chest, feet and in his hair, my heart sunk. I knew it was the powdered milk.
I had a five gallon bucket in the kitchen that I was working out of. About four years ago we discovered gamma seal lids. Truly a wonderful invention. There's a threaded seal that goes around the rim of the bucket and a screw in lid that fits the seal. It makes it so much easier to work out of buckets, especially when you have as much stuff stored in buckets as we do! The downside, little boys that *L*I*K*E* *T*O* *P*L*A*Y*. This is especially frustrating since I have three to try to keep the reigns on.
When my was visiting, she tried really hard to not laugh every time she found a lock on a door or cupboard. She didn't succeed but she did try.
Thank you for that mom.
Anyway, kid, covered in ivory dust. I immediately looked for the bucket. I've spent so long not understanding my speech impaired kids I have a bad habit of not even asking Ean obvious questions. It would save so much time and he's still at that wonderful age where he mostly spits out the truth. Eventually I found the bucket. It had been about a third full, so maybe twenty pounds of moo's milk. It was all dumped on the cement pad in the back yard.
It obviously was being used as a sand box. Ironically the kids had dumped the sand from their sand box onto the cement pad about six weeks ago. So they had a sandbox. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr
There were foot prints through the milk and not just kid but kitty and doggy footprints too. Frankly I'm shocked the dog didn't roll in it. Wouldn't a carpet of dry milk be the doggy equivalent of a person rolling on money heaped on a bed? The milk's been shoveled and swept but I'm still catching the dog licking the cement.
Throw in the pancake syrup from a week ago and there's a lot of waste going on at my house. Oh yeah, the pancake syrup. Well we had this big container of syrup, there was about a half gallon left and I was serving scones for dinner. Now I made honey butter to go with the scones but my weird girls were determined to have pancake syrup on their scones. Blech!
The girls are responsible for clearing the table each day after dinner. However the lure of a beautiful spring day beckoned to them and they left the house to ride bikes. I think I was doing something really important like playing on the computer but I'd been working on the house all day and figured i deserved a break. I heard a noise in the kitchen (a twin making mischief noise) and went to check the table.
Oh my HELL!
Two two year olds and a half gallon of pancake syrup are not a good mix. What made it extra frustrating was that I had specifically reminded my ten year old to put the syrup away right before I left the table.
We're talking an inch layer over half the table. Syrup finger painted on the walls, the stuff that pooled in chairs and of course the sticky lake that now existed under the table. Did I forget to mention the syrup twins that had their clothes GLUED onto them? Dave was literally stuck to the table! I did what any sane parent would do, I got my husband as back-up because I knew I was not in the right state of mind to be "fair" and "reasonable".
Then I got the girls.
Kent was very fair, they needed to clean the entire mess and no syrup for a month. That reminds me, I need to make pancakes soon...
The girls worked hard for about twenty minutes and then fizzled into a fit of silliness that could not be contained. There was shrieking, running, thumping and door slamming. I could not put a stop to it because I was nursing two very sad boys with colds so they could go to bed in a few minutes. Apparently washing syrup out of hair is almost as traumatic as dental surgery had been the week before. Who knew?
Kent disappeared downstairs so I was on my own. I was peeved with those girls and I knew the mess had hardly been touched. What I didn't know is that Jane had mopped the floor. This means she wet the mop and spread the sticky over pretty much the entire kitchen. Kate had carefully cleaned the table and chairs all around the puddles. It looked like weird abstract art with these raised spots that had stuff stuck in them. there was a fair amount of sticky spread around the table too. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse.
Dave coughed. Not just any cough but a deep gut wrenching, I'm hacking up a lung cough. Very hard to hear your child sick. Even worse when it's your gag reflex kid. Yuppers, the kid hurled right on my face, across my pillow and onto our bed.
I loudly instructed Jane to go get her father. She came back and told me he was on the phone.
Grumble grumble grumble.
So I washed up, cleaned the kid again. Stripped my bed, threw my sheets and pillow in the wash and realized what a grand disaster the girls had made in the kitchen. That was when Kent finally came up.
Was I annoyed, frustrated or frazzled? I think a more accurate word would be irate, in laymans terms, I was ticked. Kent mentioned that when Jane came down he thought I was just asking for help getting the kids ready for bed. I was working hard to not loose it completely. I got after the girls, dumped a half gallon of water on the floor, got a pile of clean prefolds and instructed Jane to get on her hands and knees and use a clean prefold until it got dirty and then get another clean one, so as to not just spread the sticky. I then quickly did some wiping on the chairs, not wishing to press my luck on trusting Kate to actually get them.
And then Kent helpfully mentioned that I should have given Dave cough medicine.
*exasperated sigh*
I did, he threw the damn stuff up!
So I medicated the kid again, put on my shoes and suggested that Dave and Greg be put into bed. Kent said he didn't think that was a good idea just yet. OK, if you want him honey, he's yours. They are all yours!! I grabbed the ergo, put Ean on my back and met the neighbor to go for a walk. I could not take one more minute in the house!!!!!
Boy did my thighs feel that walk. After all I was carrying an almost forty pound weight on my back. I move a lot slower with an almost four year old on my back.
My neighbor's youngest was jealous that Ean was getting to go. I mentioned he was more luggage then anything else, he wasn't playing or jumping.
By the time I got back, I had cooled off enough to appreciate the work the girls had done. With a parent sitting right on top of them, they can do amazing work! *laugh* The twins were in bed and the girls gladly left the kitchen to go to bed.
I use to keep all my regular use bulk items (flour, sugar, rice, moo's milk etc) in five gallon buckets. I've been forced to move everything into smaller containers so I can lock it safely in my pantry. If I leave anything out even on the counter, someone will get into it. The twins love flour, Kate eats sugar in any form and Ean loves pretty much everything.
The twins are also garbage guts. Anything with food property they try to eat so I often find chewed up pectin boxes and sucked on cheese packs (from mac and cheese boxes) on the kitchen floor. It sure makes it hard to be frugal, hard to save, hard to keep stuff on hand. The worst part is they often destroy items that we can't replace from the Bishop's storehouse. The Bishop's storehouse is the LDS church's grocery store for welfare shopping. You find them in high LDS population areas. This leaves me with the option of spending money that we have budgeted to the penny or going without. Often we go without.
I should mention that in the past thirteen years of marriage we've never received help from the church before. I thought it was humbling the first time I went but I was wrong, it's far more humbling after the third month of receiving welfare.
Still we are counting our blessings. We have a home. Keeping our life in this world in perspective, that means we are incredibly rich compared to those impoverished nations that have so little. I need to remember my blessings not just today but when times are good again because we are blessed.
We're in an awkward situation right now. Due to a series of unfortunate circumstances my husband is trying to make a go of a business that was given every possible disadvantage there is. There's a whole history in why he's there, lots of family loyalty, worry for his parents and their financial situation and an evil sales representative that had it out for my FIL, the former owner of this business.
So my husband is trying to get this turkey going, and it's getting there, slowly but he's job hunting at the same time. While job hunting three other major businesses in town have either closed or had major layoffs. Sorry, restructuring *eye roll* That leaves hundreds looking for jobs in a town of only fifty thousand. Not a good situation.
However after much thought and prayer we've decided we need to stay where we're at. We have a fixed mortgage rate of four and a half percent. We had to refinance twice to get it that low, it was totally worth it. We also only have a decade left on our mortgage. Our first mortgage and first refinance on this house were thirty year loans. The second refinance, we got a sweet fifteen year mortgage with that uber low interest rate.
We talked about moving, this house is small for us. There are three very small bedrooms upstairs and two bedrooms downstairs. It's about two thousand square feet and we use pretty much every inch. The biggest bedroom downstairs is crammed with Kent's office and my sewing stuff. At one time we each had our own rooms and it was wonderful! But the Lord had plans for us and sent the twins, we put in an egress window in the smaller bedroom and the girls are now downstairs. My husband and I are sharing space. It would go a lot smoother if he'd stop stacking random computer parts on my fabric stash.
When times were better and we talked of moving I always had the same thought come into my head. That thought was the advice we've been given by our latter day prophets on living within our means. That means housing too and now I have a better understanding of why we've been given that council.
It's not just living within our means, it's an attitude of frugality that we should embrace. Saving money for emergencies, having a food storage, growing a garden when possible. It's a way of life and we've tried to follow that way of life.
I'll be the first to admit it's saved our cans the past five months. During this time we've had no income, we've payed all our bills, utilities and mortgage without help. We've also dipped into our food storage relying on it.
We have a decent food storage, we have wheat, dehydrated potatoes and other vegetables, dehydrated fruit, tvp, canned meat, veggies, fruit. We have oats, corn, rice and somewhere in the basement we have two five gallon buckets with sugar in it. That's not enough for our family of seven if we're talking a year but throw in our dozen 12 pound buckets of honey and about 40 pounds of molasses, we can stretch it out quite a bit.
We suffer a bit from pride, we weren't going to ask for any help at all. However I confided to a friend about our situation the day before she became Relief Society president. The Lord works in mysterious ways. *wink* She came to us with a food order and we've been on church welfare for three months now. Since our savings and tax returns have payed the bills, we've been receiving help with groceries.
At first we were really uncomfortable with this. After all, we do have our food storage and isn't that what's it's for? Then Kent went to a Stake welfare meeting and learned the Stake President has made it his mission to get help to families in potential financial trouble before they lose homes and the church can no longer help. Why, that's us!
We immediately felt relief. We've humbled ourselves and have gratefully received groceries from the church.
There's a few things I won't get though. We are on WIC and with the three little boys we get fourteen gallons of milk a month. If we run short, I insist we use our dry milk. Kent really doesn't like it, but that's why we have it! I feel very strongly about not taking more then we need and it's been a huge blessing. Of course I hope and pray soon we can move on.
Understanding our situation can help you appreciate the frustration I feel when my children waste food. It's bad enough a cereal box isn't put up and the twins take it out in the yard and feed the ants but sometimes my children treat food like it's a toy.
The brand of dehydrated milk we buy is called Moo's Milk, it's pretty tasty actually, much better then the powdered milk I grew up with in the seventies. Like all dairy products, the price has gone up. Where we last bought it for $76.00 a fifty pound bag it's now up over a hundred bucks a bag. That makes what we have extra precious. Every little bit is gold when you have no income coming in.
So when my almost four year old came to me to ask for a glass of kool-aid and I noticed a fine ivory powder over his hands, chest, feet and in his hair, my heart sunk. I knew it was the powdered milk.
I had a five gallon bucket in the kitchen that I was working out of. About four years ago we discovered gamma seal lids. Truly a wonderful invention. There's a threaded seal that goes around the rim of the bucket and a screw in lid that fits the seal. It makes it so much easier to work out of buckets, especially when you have as much stuff stored in buckets as we do! The downside, little boys that *L*I*K*E* *T*O* *P*L*A*Y*. This is especially frustrating since I have three to try to keep the reigns on.
When my was visiting, she tried really hard to not laugh every time she found a lock on a door or cupboard. She didn't succeed but she did try.
Thank you for that mom.
Anyway, kid, covered in ivory dust. I immediately looked for the bucket. I've spent so long not understanding my speech impaired kids I have a bad habit of not even asking Ean obvious questions. It would save so much time and he's still at that wonderful age where he mostly spits out the truth. Eventually I found the bucket. It had been about a third full, so maybe twenty pounds of moo's milk. It was all dumped on the cement pad in the back yard.
It obviously was being used as a sand box. Ironically the kids had dumped the sand from their sand box onto the cement pad about six weeks ago. So they had a sandbox. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr
There were foot prints through the milk and not just kid but kitty and doggy footprints too. Frankly I'm shocked the dog didn't roll in it. Wouldn't a carpet of dry milk be the doggy equivalent of a person rolling on money heaped on a bed? The milk's been shoveled and swept but I'm still catching the dog licking the cement.
Throw in the pancake syrup from a week ago and there's a lot of waste going on at my house. Oh yeah, the pancake syrup. Well we had this big container of syrup, there was about a half gallon left and I was serving scones for dinner. Now I made honey butter to go with the scones but my weird girls were determined to have pancake syrup on their scones. Blech!
The girls are responsible for clearing the table each day after dinner. However the lure of a beautiful spring day beckoned to them and they left the house to ride bikes. I think I was doing something really important like playing on the computer but I'd been working on the house all day and figured i deserved a break. I heard a noise in the kitchen (a twin making mischief noise) and went to check the table.
Oh my HELL!
Two two year olds and a half gallon of pancake syrup are not a good mix. What made it extra frustrating was that I had specifically reminded my ten year old to put the syrup away right before I left the table.
We're talking an inch layer over half the table. Syrup finger painted on the walls, the stuff that pooled in chairs and of course the sticky lake that now existed under the table. Did I forget to mention the syrup twins that had their clothes GLUED onto them? Dave was literally stuck to the table! I did what any sane parent would do, I got my husband as back-up because I knew I was not in the right state of mind to be "fair" and "reasonable".
Then I got the girls.
Kent was very fair, they needed to clean the entire mess and no syrup for a month. That reminds me, I need to make pancakes soon...
The girls worked hard for about twenty minutes and then fizzled into a fit of silliness that could not be contained. There was shrieking, running, thumping and door slamming. I could not put a stop to it because I was nursing two very sad boys with colds so they could go to bed in a few minutes. Apparently washing syrup out of hair is almost as traumatic as dental surgery had been the week before. Who knew?
Kent disappeared downstairs so I was on my own. I was peeved with those girls and I knew the mess had hardly been touched. What I didn't know is that Jane had mopped the floor. This means she wet the mop and spread the sticky over pretty much the entire kitchen. Kate had carefully cleaned the table and chairs all around the puddles. It looked like weird abstract art with these raised spots that had stuff stuck in them. there was a fair amount of sticky spread around the table too. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse.
Dave coughed. Not just any cough but a deep gut wrenching, I'm hacking up a lung cough. Very hard to hear your child sick. Even worse when it's your gag reflex kid. Yuppers, the kid hurled right on my face, across my pillow and onto our bed.
I loudly instructed Jane to go get her father. She came back and told me he was on the phone.
Grumble grumble grumble.
So I washed up, cleaned the kid again. Stripped my bed, threw my sheets and pillow in the wash and realized what a grand disaster the girls had made in the kitchen. That was when Kent finally came up.
Was I annoyed, frustrated or frazzled? I think a more accurate word would be irate, in laymans terms, I was ticked. Kent mentioned that when Jane came down he thought I was just asking for help getting the kids ready for bed. I was working hard to not loose it completely. I got after the girls, dumped a half gallon of water on the floor, got a pile of clean prefolds and instructed Jane to get on her hands and knees and use a clean prefold until it got dirty and then get another clean one, so as to not just spread the sticky. I then quickly did some wiping on the chairs, not wishing to press my luck on trusting Kate to actually get them.
And then Kent helpfully mentioned that I should have given Dave cough medicine.
*exasperated sigh*
I did, he threw the damn stuff up!
So I medicated the kid again, put on my shoes and suggested that Dave and Greg be put into bed. Kent said he didn't think that was a good idea just yet. OK, if you want him honey, he's yours. They are all yours!! I grabbed the ergo, put Ean on my back and met the neighbor to go for a walk. I could not take one more minute in the house!!!!!
Boy did my thighs feel that walk. After all I was carrying an almost forty pound weight on my back. I move a lot slower with an almost four year old on my back.
My neighbor's youngest was jealous that Ean was getting to go. I mentioned he was more luggage then anything else, he wasn't playing or jumping.
By the time I got back, I had cooled off enough to appreciate the work the girls had done. With a parent sitting right on top of them, they can do amazing work! *laugh* The twins were in bed and the girls gladly left the kitchen to go to bed.
I use to keep all my regular use bulk items (flour, sugar, rice, moo's milk etc) in five gallon buckets. I've been forced to move everything into smaller containers so I can lock it safely in my pantry. If I leave anything out even on the counter, someone will get into it. The twins love flour, Kate eats sugar in any form and Ean loves pretty much everything.
The twins are also garbage guts. Anything with food property they try to eat so I often find chewed up pectin boxes and sucked on cheese packs (from mac and cheese boxes) on the kitchen floor. It sure makes it hard to be frugal, hard to save, hard to keep stuff on hand. The worst part is they often destroy items that we can't replace from the Bishop's storehouse. The Bishop's storehouse is the LDS church's grocery store for welfare shopping. You find them in high LDS population areas. This leaves me with the option of spending money that we have budgeted to the penny or going without. Often we go without.
I should mention that in the past thirteen years of marriage we've never received help from the church before. I thought it was humbling the first time I went but I was wrong, it's far more humbling after the third month of receiving welfare.
Still we are counting our blessings. We have a home. Keeping our life in this world in perspective, that means we are incredibly rich compared to those impoverished nations that have so little. I need to remember my blessings not just today but when times are good again because we are blessed.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Jane's 3 year testing.
I got a call yesterday from Jane's speech teacher and I have a meeting on Friday about Jane. The good news is she's doing great! She did extremely well in all the tests and she doesn't qualify for speech anymore. Actually she hasn't really qualified the past couple of years but they kept her on to make sure she'd get resource room under the speech umbrella. She was having problems with language, tenses and still has problems with vocabulary and comprehension but reading my Calvin and Hobbes books seems to have helped.
She also doesn't qualify for resource room anymore, thankfully everyone that's been involved in her education this year (that includes speech teacher, resource room teacher and classroom teacher) agrees that she's not ready to go without it. She's extremely delayed in language comprehension, it'd be like throwing her to the wolves to put her in a regular classroom full time. I am so grateful I don't have to fight for what she needs. We've really been blessed with the staff of this particular school.
So she won't have an IEP but there's another statute she'll fall under. I'm not sure how it works, but I'll be sure to update next week on how our meeting went and how this statute works.
Under the IEP we were able to make sure she had preferential seating, assignment length adjusted, Jane is easily overwhelmed, and modified curriculum from the resource room. She's excelled this year academically bringing home three A's, one B and one C on her report card. You have to realize this forth grader started out the year barely reading at a second grade reading level with no retention almost immediately after reading. She's come a long way this year. I'm so very proud of her.
*nervous sigh*
I want her to succeed, in whatever she does. She works so hard and she's such a joy. I hope she realizes all her wonderful qualities. I need to do better at telling her what she does well. Those awkward teen years are around the corner. I hope I'm doing enough to get her ready.
She also doesn't qualify for resource room anymore, thankfully everyone that's been involved in her education this year (that includes speech teacher, resource room teacher and classroom teacher) agrees that she's not ready to go without it. She's extremely delayed in language comprehension, it'd be like throwing her to the wolves to put her in a regular classroom full time. I am so grateful I don't have to fight for what she needs. We've really been blessed with the staff of this particular school.
So she won't have an IEP but there's another statute she'll fall under. I'm not sure how it works, but I'll be sure to update next week on how our meeting went and how this statute works.
Under the IEP we were able to make sure she had preferential seating, assignment length adjusted, Jane is easily overwhelmed, and modified curriculum from the resource room. She's excelled this year academically bringing home three A's, one B and one C on her report card. You have to realize this forth grader started out the year barely reading at a second grade reading level with no retention almost immediately after reading. She's come a long way this year. I'm so very proud of her.
*nervous sigh*
I want her to succeed, in whatever she does. She works so hard and she's such a joy. I hope she realizes all her wonderful qualities. I need to do better at telling her what she does well. Those awkward teen years are around the corner. I hope I'm doing enough to get her ready.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Surviving Sunday
Our church meetings last three hours. Only the last hour is together with the whole family. I dread this time together. Something that is meant to be spiritually fulfilling leaves me completely drained, tired and grouchy. I chase children, bounce children, scold, hold, rock and threaten children.
Kate can't sit next to me because she tries to "claim" me and starts a pushing match with any sibling that touches me. Ean does the same and heaven forbid if I have both Ean and Kate touching me because the whines from them as they push and shove can be heard echoing about the chapel. Of course Ean objects to the twins on me and the twins object to sharing the parent their with. And it's always two twins picking one parent. They won't split up because that makes to much sense.
Some parents bring snacks, I find it causes more problems then it solves because there's fighting over snacks and a mess to clean up. I also don't feel it's very respectful to leave goldfish crumbs in the pew.
Sooooooo what's my worst nightmare? Kent talking and sitting up on the stand so I have all the kids. Luckily for me I have good friends at church. I was able to borrow some teenagers and another friend to help with the kids. I also broke my no food rule and brought pretzels and goldfish, carefully divided into five baggies one for each kid. Sometimes I feel so dumb, I totally forget the extra child (my ten year olds best friend) that comes to church with us, so I had nothing for her.
My friend, whose a little older then I am, sat with Ean. At first Ean thought this would be torture. He yelled NO in the chapel when I suggested sitting with Lori. He quickly changed his mind when he realized he could have the full attention of an adult with competition! WOOT! One down!
I gave Kate to one of the teenagers. Since Kate is one of my biggest instigators, having her occupied was crucial. It worked beautifully, Kate also felt extra special having a friend during the meeting. So my biggest challenges were taken care of. That left two ten year old girls. Well, Two chatty girls *eye roll* and the twins.
I was hoping by giving a treat bag to the remaining teenager, she could bribe one of the twins into liking her. They're to smart for that. Dave gladly took her treats and ran back to me. Jane tried to help and those were the most disruptive times of the service. Next time, She's not sitting next to me either!
All in all we survived. And oddly enough I opted to skip Stake conference the following week because I had no desire to wrestle the kids through a two hour meeting!
Kate can't sit next to me because she tries to "claim" me and starts a pushing match with any sibling that touches me. Ean does the same and heaven forbid if I have both Ean and Kate touching me because the whines from them as they push and shove can be heard echoing about the chapel. Of course Ean objects to the twins on me and the twins object to sharing the parent their with. And it's always two twins picking one parent. They won't split up because that makes to much sense.
Some parents bring snacks, I find it causes more problems then it solves because there's fighting over snacks and a mess to clean up. I also don't feel it's very respectful to leave goldfish crumbs in the pew.
Sooooooo what's my worst nightmare? Kent talking and sitting up on the stand so I have all the kids. Luckily for me I have good friends at church. I was able to borrow some teenagers and another friend to help with the kids. I also broke my no food rule and brought pretzels and goldfish, carefully divided into five baggies one for each kid. Sometimes I feel so dumb, I totally forget the extra child (my ten year olds best friend) that comes to church with us, so I had nothing for her.
My friend, whose a little older then I am, sat with Ean. At first Ean thought this would be torture. He yelled NO in the chapel when I suggested sitting with Lori. He quickly changed his mind when he realized he could have the full attention of an adult with competition! WOOT! One down!
I gave Kate to one of the teenagers. Since Kate is one of my biggest instigators, having her occupied was crucial. It worked beautifully, Kate also felt extra special having a friend during the meeting. So my biggest challenges were taken care of. That left two ten year old girls. Well, Two chatty girls *eye roll* and the twins.
I was hoping by giving a treat bag to the remaining teenager, she could bribe one of the twins into liking her. They're to smart for that. Dave gladly took her treats and ran back to me. Jane tried to help and those were the most disruptive times of the service. Next time, She's not sitting next to me either!
All in all we survived. And oddly enough I opted to skip Stake conference the following week because I had no desire to wrestle the kids through a two hour meeting!
Friday, April 18, 2008
Nicknames, sayings and made up words
My mom has new nicknames for the twins. It's *hold onto your hats* metal mouth and gap face in honor of their recent dental work. I can't see those sticking but yesterday it was funny and heaven knows we both needed the chuckle.
I tend to call the littles odd things like mookie, sweetpea and munchkin. I can't help it, they tend to slip out. I also have the usual repertoire of honey and sweetie pie.
My husband hates nicknames, so much so that he insisted our kids couldn't have names that could be shortened. So we have girls named Jane and Kate yet nicknames happen even with the shortest of names. Janie just slips out of my lips, an affectionate term for my eldest when she's having a bad day and she needs to hear a little extra love in my voice. Kate is cursed with a name that people assume is a nickname so she's doomed to a lifetime of people questioning what Kate actually stands for.
Everyone assumes that Greg is short for Gregory and I'm forever correcting medical records. Really, the child's name is Greg Walter ****. Gregory isn't his name! I find it vastly amusing that more confusion was caused by my hubs trying to simplify his son's name.
During my exchange people called me Elisabeth (the Swedish version of Elizabeth) because Lisa is a nickname reserved for only close family and friends. People didn't want to be presumptuous and call me such a familiar name after just meeting me. Actually I have a certificate for my study of the Old Testament made out to Elisabeth Rush. That's pretty funny since that person doesn't exist.
Speaking of not existing, Jane's birth certificate had several typo's in it saying her mom was a Lisa Bush from Utah. I know that UT and VT are close but is it that hard to get the state abbreviations right? Really, it's rather funny. We have since corrected that info but we kept the certificate with the wrong information in it so we have proof it happened.
Now David, obviously can be shortened. You see since we were pregnant with twins we each picked a name and David was my choice and I cheerfully call him whatever I feel like calling him be it Dave, Davey or David. When he's old enough to express an opinion then I'll respectfully call him what he prefers. Until then *evil laugh* it's whatever the mood hits.
My newest name for Kate is actually Katie P. I don't have a reason why other then it sounds kinda cool. P is Kate's middle initial so really there's nothing there will embarrass her when she's dating. It's not like when she was a twenty pound six month old baby with rolls everywhere and my dad called her Katie the hutt. That's one that should be saved for prom night, but really I don't want it to haunt her entire life. Another fitting title for Miss Kate is The Queen of Protest. This came from a dear friend of mine and it still fits Katie P. to a T.
Kent's been calling Ean Ean the Wean and that one is just kinda weird, not to mention Ean hates it.
My dad was a champ at nicknames and nonsense words. I vividly remember hear my dad answering the phone with "How is my mommy nini noo noo." The pitch of his voice would change when he said it too, something special he only used on my grandma. He had a saying he used only for his sister too but what I really remember is the nonsense words. Made up words that only the family could understand. Anyone in my family utters the word guish and we all understand that to mean the squishy belly fat that jiggles when you poke it. It's a great word, just rolls off the tongue. There were other words too, stuff he said to refer to the pets, people, nature. It was a talent.
I believe he would have approved of mom calling the twins metal mouth and gap face. I did.
I tend to call the littles odd things like mookie, sweetpea and munchkin. I can't help it, they tend to slip out. I also have the usual repertoire of honey and sweetie pie.
My husband hates nicknames, so much so that he insisted our kids couldn't have names that could be shortened. So we have girls named Jane and Kate yet nicknames happen even with the shortest of names. Janie just slips out of my lips, an affectionate term for my eldest when she's having a bad day and she needs to hear a little extra love in my voice. Kate is cursed with a name that people assume is a nickname so she's doomed to a lifetime of people questioning what Kate actually stands for.
Everyone assumes that Greg is short for Gregory and I'm forever correcting medical records. Really, the child's name is Greg Walter ****. Gregory isn't his name! I find it vastly amusing that more confusion was caused by my hubs trying to simplify his son's name.
During my exchange people called me Elisabeth (the Swedish version of Elizabeth) because Lisa is a nickname reserved for only close family and friends. People didn't want to be presumptuous and call me such a familiar name after just meeting me. Actually I have a certificate for my study of the Old Testament made out to Elisabeth Rush. That's pretty funny since that person doesn't exist.
Speaking of not existing, Jane's birth certificate had several typo's in it saying her mom was a Lisa Bush from Utah. I know that UT and VT are close but is it that hard to get the state abbreviations right? Really, it's rather funny. We have since corrected that info but we kept the certificate with the wrong information in it so we have proof it happened.
Now David, obviously can be shortened. You see since we were pregnant with twins we each picked a name and David was my choice and I cheerfully call him whatever I feel like calling him be it Dave, Davey or David. When he's old enough to express an opinion then I'll respectfully call him what he prefers. Until then *evil laugh* it's whatever the mood hits.
My newest name for Kate is actually Katie P. I don't have a reason why other then it sounds kinda cool. P is Kate's middle initial so really there's nothing there will embarrass her when she's dating. It's not like when she was a twenty pound six month old baby with rolls everywhere and my dad called her Katie the hutt. That's one that should be saved for prom night, but really I don't want it to haunt her entire life. Another fitting title for Miss Kate is The Queen of Protest. This came from a dear friend of mine and it still fits Katie P. to a T.
Kent's been calling Ean Ean the Wean and that one is just kinda weird, not to mention Ean hates it.
My dad was a champ at nicknames and nonsense words. I vividly remember hear my dad answering the phone with "How is my mommy nini noo noo." The pitch of his voice would change when he said it too, something special he only used on my grandma. He had a saying he used only for his sister too but what I really remember is the nonsense words. Made up words that only the family could understand. Anyone in my family utters the word guish and we all understand that to mean the squishy belly fat that jiggles when you poke it. It's a great word, just rolls off the tongue. There were other words too, stuff he said to refer to the pets, people, nature. It was a talent.
I believe he would have approved of mom calling the twins metal mouth and gap face. I did.
I love our backyard
Our backyard is enclosed with a fence that can't be seen by the street. I allow my small children to roam, play and explore without fear for their safety. We have a swing set, a tramp and a big ol tire with sand in it. What more could a kid want?
Well the older kids apparently want bikes, scooters and freedom to roam the neighborhood. They bounce back and forth between back and front twenty or so times in an afternoon. This wasn't ever a problem before but apparently it's a problem now because the gate is getting left open. Usually we can tell because our big beastie dog is out front greeting all his furry friends with plenty of tail wagging and butt sniffing.
Today, I found out because someone in the neighborhood gave me a call to let me know my twins were a full block away from my house. With a quick goodbye and a run with no shoes I started out the door. I ran fast and for someone as out of shape as I am, that's saying something. Unfortunately I was so upset, I ran the wrong direction.
When I reached the corner, I looked frantically and realized I was at the wrong street.
*sigh*
So panting and limping (bare feet remember) I went the other direction. Fortunately a good Samaritan had picked the boys and their dump truck up and was looking for us. Thankfully they had enough sense to stay together and no one hit them.
So I just called my husband to let him know we need a lock on the gate tonight! We have our electric meter in the back so it'll be a pain once a month to have to go unlock the gate but for the peace of mind knowing I can let littles play in the back yard, it's worth the teensy hassle of letting the meter reader in.
My heart is still beating and it's not because I'm out of breath.
Well the older kids apparently want bikes, scooters and freedom to roam the neighborhood. They bounce back and forth between back and front twenty or so times in an afternoon. This wasn't ever a problem before but apparently it's a problem now because the gate is getting left open. Usually we can tell because our big beastie dog is out front greeting all his furry friends with plenty of tail wagging and butt sniffing.
Today, I found out because someone in the neighborhood gave me a call to let me know my twins were a full block away from my house. With a quick goodbye and a run with no shoes I started out the door. I ran fast and for someone as out of shape as I am, that's saying something. Unfortunately I was so upset, I ran the wrong direction.
When I reached the corner, I looked frantically and realized I was at the wrong street.
*sigh*
So panting and limping (bare feet remember) I went the other direction. Fortunately a good Samaritan had picked the boys and their dump truck up and was looking for us. Thankfully they had enough sense to stay together and no one hit them.
So I just called my husband to let him know we need a lock on the gate tonight! We have our electric meter in the back so it'll be a pain once a month to have to go unlock the gate but for the peace of mind knowing I can let littles play in the back yard, it's worth the teensy hassle of letting the meter reader in.
My heart is still beating and it's not because I'm out of breath.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
David's oral surgery.
Alright, as posted, we had to be there at six am. I woke up Dave just a touch before 5:30 and he was ticked at me. Thankfully I didn't wake up Greg in the process or grab Greg by mistake. They sleep in separate cribs but we've been known to accidentally mix up them up at bedtime finding them in the wrong beds the next morning.
I was completely ready and all I needed to do was change Dave's diaper and go out the door. Dave started to howl. I mean, he was sound asleep, exhausted still, woke up, not nursed and comforted just taken to the car and dumped into his car seat, without his twin.
Unfair!!
Once we started driving he did much better. He liked the motion of the car and surprisingly he stayed awake the whole way. He whined and fussed once we got there.
Here's where it got awkward. It was six am, and Dave couldn't eat or drink. We had to wait for about a half hour before being taken back to the prep room. A family came in with three kids in pajamas. Obviously multiple kids were having something done, I found out later the two oldest were having tubes put in their ears and adenoids taken out. The baby was suppose to have tubes put in too but his procedure was cancelled because he was sick, so his mom was giving him a bottle in the waiting room.
Uh, my two year old doesn't understand he's not eating or drinking and if he saw the bottle it possibly could have made things very difficult. He does steal his cousins bottle, he knows what they are. Luckily, I was the first one in the waiting room so I turned the tv to an obnoxious kid show and had Dave positioned straight towards the tv, with the bottle baby behind us.
This family was also in the prep room across from us (ugh!) so I had to be uber careful about him not seeing a bottle. Thankfully Dave never decided he needed to nurse. If he had, it would have been a miserable wait for both of us, with lots of shirt pulling but he was so paranoid of the nurses and trying to not look at them, he never thought of milkies.
Taking his oxygen stats was mean, just mean. If the boy was verbal, I'm sure that's what he would have said. *laugh* He also thought taking his temp was mean, it was an axillary temp too! So easy. The blood pressure cuff on his leg was really mean. Basically if anyone touched him, it was mean.
When the nurse came to take him back, I didn't give him a chance to object, I tossed him over to her and left *cough* quickly. *cough*
The wait for me was pretty miserable. Someone else gained control of the tv and *groan* was playing a sports channel. It was like nails on a chalkboard. I visited the grandma of the sick bottle boy. She'd come to help with the baby while the parents took care of the two older kids.
When Ean had his adenoids out, he was miserable for about twenty-four hours. I felt for the mom having two that she was going to have to nurse two that day.
Eventually the dentist came in and said that Dave needed four crowns, two upper molars and two lower molars. The two lower were on the same side, they were decayed between them. He also had a filling on the lower side opposite his two crowns.
It's amazing how self conscience I felt when I was asked how old Dave was. Having a two year old needing dental surgery was something I never planned on but I felt like I needed to explain about David's prematurity and projectile vomiting that when on for eight solid months. I didn't want anyone to assume that I had fed my child soda in a bottle for the past year or all he ate was super refined sugary sweets all day. Really it's silly, I know why Dave's teeth are so bad, why should it matter if someone else assumed something different.
The only thing I could have done differently was bring him in sooner. Honestly, that child eats so many crayons, I couldn't ever figure out it was crayons or decay in his mouth.
When I was finally brought back to recover and Dave was brought to me, he was still pretty out of it. He looked like a rag doll, so very limp in the nurses arms. He was placed on my lap and he had a rough time waking up. He fussed and was quiet and then fussed some more, then kicked mad with his eyes closed the whole time.
The nurse brought some apple juice for him to drink and then wandered off. I was annoyed because Dave was still hooked up to the IV and in my lap, so I was trapped and I was thirsty! I've been there before and had wonderful nurses bring me stuff to drink too when trapped under a little person but this nurse only worried about her patient. So when Dave woke up a touch more and started throwing a fit, I nursed him and I drank his apple juice. Seemed fair to me. I did make sure to mention not being offered a drink when the surgery center called to check up Dave and see if there was any problems with his treatment.
I left a touch of juice in the cup for him and offered him some a few minutes later. He tried to take a drink and it all fell out of his mouth on me and him both. I think his mouth felt super weird and he didn't know how to process the new sensations. I'd rather be wearing cold juice then vomit any day of the week. Since I was nervous Dave might throw up, I was actually relieved all I went home with was the juice on my shirt.
Dave's nurse kept pushing the juice on him. That annoyed me.
I know David. I know his history. If anyone in any given situation is going to have a bad tummy reaction to something, It'll be my Dave. Knowing this, I prefer to take new situations like coming out of anesthesia slowly. The last thing I wanted was Dave gulping juice when I didn't know if he was nauseous. Thankfully he kept it down, but I was actually expecting him to throw up. I've been thrown up on daily for eight months. I've cleaned the kid off after introducing every single new food for months. I've stripped in my front room drenched in my own milk more times then I can count. Of course that vomiting was exactly why we were at the surgery center with Dave getting massive dental work.
Dave woke up enough to realize that he had the IV in. That was very disturbing. Since he had nursed, the nurse said she could take it out. Amidst his thrashing she was able to remove the funny wrap stuff so we could plainly see the tape and IV needle in his arm. He flipped. She was pulling the tape off when he jerked his arm, grabbed the line pulled. He got it partly out but it was still taped, so it was bleeding but not coming off. I'm sure it hurt because he now had the end poking him.
The nurse got the rest off and there's was a whole lot of blood coming out the hole. Dave fought us on applying pressure so it could clot. The nurse remarked he sure has good veins. Finally when a cotton ball and band aid could be left on, he objected to that too. Then he figured out he had an ID bracelet on his ankle. Oh yeah, that was bad too. When everything was off his body, then he could finally relax and just whine so I'd realize how miserable he was.
Finally I took the boy home, well I actually took him to see Kent first. I figured since my mom was bonding with Greg alone, she could use a little more time with him. Dave snuggled into Kent's arms for a bit and then he was obviously in pain so I took him home.
Greg did fantastic with my mom, she actually got to play with him and love on him before she left.
When I brought Dave in, hurting, exhausted and super cranky he walked straight over to Greg and those two boys embraced for a minute or two. Greg reached over and patted Dave's back while holding him. I wonder if Greg understood that Dave was distressed?
Guess I'll never know.
I was completely ready and all I needed to do was change Dave's diaper and go out the door. Dave started to howl. I mean, he was sound asleep, exhausted still, woke up, not nursed and comforted just taken to the car and dumped into his car seat, without his twin.
Unfair!!
Once we started driving he did much better. He liked the motion of the car and surprisingly he stayed awake the whole way. He whined and fussed once we got there.
Here's where it got awkward. It was six am, and Dave couldn't eat or drink. We had to wait for about a half hour before being taken back to the prep room. A family came in with three kids in pajamas. Obviously multiple kids were having something done, I found out later the two oldest were having tubes put in their ears and adenoids taken out. The baby was suppose to have tubes put in too but his procedure was cancelled because he was sick, so his mom was giving him a bottle in the waiting room.
Uh, my two year old doesn't understand he's not eating or drinking and if he saw the bottle it possibly could have made things very difficult. He does steal his cousins bottle, he knows what they are. Luckily, I was the first one in the waiting room so I turned the tv to an obnoxious kid show and had Dave positioned straight towards the tv, with the bottle baby behind us.
This family was also in the prep room across from us (ugh!) so I had to be uber careful about him not seeing a bottle. Thankfully Dave never decided he needed to nurse. If he had, it would have been a miserable wait for both of us, with lots of shirt pulling but he was so paranoid of the nurses and trying to not look at them, he never thought of milkies.
Taking his oxygen stats was mean, just mean. If the boy was verbal, I'm sure that's what he would have said. *laugh* He also thought taking his temp was mean, it was an axillary temp too! So easy. The blood pressure cuff on his leg was really mean. Basically if anyone touched him, it was mean.
When the nurse came to take him back, I didn't give him a chance to object, I tossed him over to her and left *cough* quickly. *cough*
The wait for me was pretty miserable. Someone else gained control of the tv and *groan* was playing a sports channel. It was like nails on a chalkboard. I visited the grandma of the sick bottle boy. She'd come to help with the baby while the parents took care of the two older kids.
When Ean had his adenoids out, he was miserable for about twenty-four hours. I felt for the mom having two that she was going to have to nurse two that day.
Eventually the dentist came in and said that Dave needed four crowns, two upper molars and two lower molars. The two lower were on the same side, they were decayed between them. He also had a filling on the lower side opposite his two crowns.
It's amazing how self conscience I felt when I was asked how old Dave was. Having a two year old needing dental surgery was something I never planned on but I felt like I needed to explain about David's prematurity and projectile vomiting that when on for eight solid months. I didn't want anyone to assume that I had fed my child soda in a bottle for the past year or all he ate was super refined sugary sweets all day. Really it's silly, I know why Dave's teeth are so bad, why should it matter if someone else assumed something different.
The only thing I could have done differently was bring him in sooner. Honestly, that child eats so many crayons, I couldn't ever figure out it was crayons or decay in his mouth.
When I was finally brought back to recover and Dave was brought to me, he was still pretty out of it. He looked like a rag doll, so very limp in the nurses arms. He was placed on my lap and he had a rough time waking up. He fussed and was quiet and then fussed some more, then kicked mad with his eyes closed the whole time.
The nurse brought some apple juice for him to drink and then wandered off. I was annoyed because Dave was still hooked up to the IV and in my lap, so I was trapped and I was thirsty! I've been there before and had wonderful nurses bring me stuff to drink too when trapped under a little person but this nurse only worried about her patient. So when Dave woke up a touch more and started throwing a fit, I nursed him and I drank his apple juice. Seemed fair to me. I did make sure to mention not being offered a drink when the surgery center called to check up Dave and see if there was any problems with his treatment.
I left a touch of juice in the cup for him and offered him some a few minutes later. He tried to take a drink and it all fell out of his mouth on me and him both. I think his mouth felt super weird and he didn't know how to process the new sensations. I'd rather be wearing cold juice then vomit any day of the week. Since I was nervous Dave might throw up, I was actually relieved all I went home with was the juice on my shirt.
Dave's nurse kept pushing the juice on him. That annoyed me.
I know David. I know his history. If anyone in any given situation is going to have a bad tummy reaction to something, It'll be my Dave. Knowing this, I prefer to take new situations like coming out of anesthesia slowly. The last thing I wanted was Dave gulping juice when I didn't know if he was nauseous. Thankfully he kept it down, but I was actually expecting him to throw up. I've been thrown up on daily for eight months. I've cleaned the kid off after introducing every single new food for months. I've stripped in my front room drenched in my own milk more times then I can count. Of course that vomiting was exactly why we were at the surgery center with Dave getting massive dental work.
Dave woke up enough to realize that he had the IV in. That was very disturbing. Since he had nursed, the nurse said she could take it out. Amidst his thrashing she was able to remove the funny wrap stuff so we could plainly see the tape and IV needle in his arm. He flipped. She was pulling the tape off when he jerked his arm, grabbed the line pulled. He got it partly out but it was still taped, so it was bleeding but not coming off. I'm sure it hurt because he now had the end poking him.
The nurse got the rest off and there's was a whole lot of blood coming out the hole. Dave fought us on applying pressure so it could clot. The nurse remarked he sure has good veins. Finally when a cotton ball and band aid could be left on, he objected to that too. Then he figured out he had an ID bracelet on his ankle. Oh yeah, that was bad too. When everything was off his body, then he could finally relax and just whine so I'd realize how miserable he was.
Finally I took the boy home, well I actually took him to see Kent first. I figured since my mom was bonding with Greg alone, she could use a little more time with him. Dave snuggled into Kent's arms for a bit and then he was obviously in pain so I took him home.
Greg did fantastic with my mom, she actually got to play with him and love on him before she left.
When I brought Dave in, hurting, exhausted and super cranky he walked straight over to Greg and those two boys embraced for a minute or two. Greg reached over and patted Dave's back while holding him. I wonder if Greg understood that Dave was distressed?
Guess I'll never know.
It's way to early
And my contacts are killing me. Unfortunately this AM (five am that is) I don't have much choice. I have to be up and I don't have decent glasses to wear out in public so the eyeball burning contacts it is. I think it's simply a matter of not getting enough sleep before putting them back on.
I'm up because in fifty minutes I need to take my youngest to the local surgery center for dental surgery. My youngest is Dave for anyone that lost track of my crew. Poor guy will get those rotten teeth fixed. I anticipate the hardest challenge will be not letting him nurse. Weaning is going pretty good during the daytime but first thing in the morning? Yeah, I haven't even tried to cut that out yet.
My mom is here for one more day, gosh I'll miss her when she goes. And not just because she did four loads of laundry for me yesterday. It's been so nice talking with her.
Yesterday she leaned up against me and we just talked for about an hour. I know she's really missed that kind of physical contact since dad died five years ago so I try to hug and touch mom whenever I see her. I can't imagine how hard it is being a widow when you've been use to having your partner and spouse with you during your day to day life.
Ugh, I have tears dropping down my cheek from this one contact. I better rinse it out and see if that helps before getting Dave up and out the door.
I'm going to be worthless the rest of day. *YAWN*
I'm up because in fifty minutes I need to take my youngest to the local surgery center for dental surgery. My youngest is Dave for anyone that lost track of my crew. Poor guy will get those rotten teeth fixed. I anticipate the hardest challenge will be not letting him nurse. Weaning is going pretty good during the daytime but first thing in the morning? Yeah, I haven't even tried to cut that out yet.
My mom is here for one more day, gosh I'll miss her when she goes. And not just because she did four loads of laundry for me yesterday. It's been so nice talking with her.
Yesterday she leaned up against me and we just talked for about an hour. I know she's really missed that kind of physical contact since dad died five years ago so I try to hug and touch mom whenever I see her. I can't imagine how hard it is being a widow when you've been use to having your partner and spouse with you during your day to day life.
Ugh, I have tears dropping down my cheek from this one contact. I better rinse it out and see if that helps before getting Dave up and out the door.
I'm going to be worthless the rest of day. *YAWN*
Monday, April 14, 2008
My mom is visiting.
My mom just finished an LDS mission at the Family History Center in Salt Lake City. She left her home for a year, paid for her mission out of her own pocket and completely gave her time and energy to give service unto others.
I'm so proud of her.
But everything must come to an end and it's time for my mom to go home. Since we live in Idaho, mom was actually closer to me during this last year then she is when she's home. Home being Vermont. We actually snuck to Salt Lake every month or two to see her on her days off. Fortunately mission rules differ for older missionaries then for the young 20-somethings most people think of as missionaries. So our visits were legal, no rule breaking and for the first time my kids got to know my mom on a more regular basis.
Mom's only with us until Friday. Hopefully the twins warm up to her. They've been total turkeys towards their grandma. I wonder if it's because we're on "their" turf. They are acting kinda shy and really they only want me. Actually other then Kent, they really aren't cuddly to other people, so it's nothing personal but still, I know my mom is aching to hug and snuggle those boys.
Fortunately Ean has latched onto my mom like there's no tomorrow. He follows her everywhere, including in the loo! I've had to remind mom several times that in this house locked doors are your friend. *laugh*
Since mom is driving back to VT, she has her car packed to the hilt. She's spent most of the day repacking it. Trying to figure out how to make more room for her sister's suitcase. Mom took out a snow shovel and an umbrella while rearranging, Ean has claimed them both. Actually he tried to sleep with the snow shovel last night with his arms and legs wrapped it, just sure someone would try to take it from him.
Mom's accepted that she's probably lost the shovel.
The LDS church won't let their single missionaries drive alone so my aunt flew out today and will meet up with my mom on Friday to drive back with her. Fortunately for my aunt she was flying on Delta and didn't have tickets for American airlines, and their mess of over three thousand cancelled flights.
Ean has been amusing his grandma too. He's very quick to correct his perceived ideas. For instance, I showed him the American sign language I love you sign. I told him what it means and he looked at me and said MOM, that isn't a four, that's a three.
Blink blink
So I repeated in telling Ean that when I held my hand like that, it means I love you.
He was very quick to jump in again and tell me that wasn't a four, that was three and then held up four fingers to show me what four looked like. It's as if I said, the grass is green and he said NO MOM, the sky is blue!!! Who can argue with that kind of logic?
A few minutes ago my mom said to him that he was my number one boy. He was very insulted because he is not one he is FOUR!! (and he isn't really four yet *laugh* but birthdays are so subjective)
A few days in, the little boys are starting to tease my mom, grin as they run out of reach. She really wants to hold and cuddle them but they just won't let her. She's got two things working against her. One, they are boys and two, the age. The twins really won't snuggle and cuddle with anyone. My mother in law would also really like to bond with them. Apparently mommy is the only one that will do.
I wonder once I get the turkeys weaned if it will be any better?
Actually all my kids have gone through a mommy only stage. Ean actually spent an entire year of his life yelling no when Kent's dad tried to touch him. Oh he changed, it just had to be on his time table. Now he can't get enough of his papa. Papa picked him up from preschool today and Ean cried when he was brought to our house. He wanted to stay and play with papa.
So there's hope for the twins.
I'm so proud of her.
But everything must come to an end and it's time for my mom to go home. Since we live in Idaho, mom was actually closer to me during this last year then she is when she's home. Home being Vermont. We actually snuck to Salt Lake every month or two to see her on her days off. Fortunately mission rules differ for older missionaries then for the young 20-somethings most people think of as missionaries. So our visits were legal, no rule breaking and for the first time my kids got to know my mom on a more regular basis.
Mom's only with us until Friday. Hopefully the twins warm up to her. They've been total turkeys towards their grandma. I wonder if it's because we're on "their" turf. They are acting kinda shy and really they only want me. Actually other then Kent, they really aren't cuddly to other people, so it's nothing personal but still, I know my mom is aching to hug and snuggle those boys.
Fortunately Ean has latched onto my mom like there's no tomorrow. He follows her everywhere, including in the loo! I've had to remind mom several times that in this house locked doors are your friend. *laugh*
Since mom is driving back to VT, she has her car packed to the hilt. She's spent most of the day repacking it. Trying to figure out how to make more room for her sister's suitcase. Mom took out a snow shovel and an umbrella while rearranging, Ean has claimed them both. Actually he tried to sleep with the snow shovel last night with his arms and legs wrapped it, just sure someone would try to take it from him.
Mom's accepted that she's probably lost the shovel.
The LDS church won't let their single missionaries drive alone so my aunt flew out today and will meet up with my mom on Friday to drive back with her. Fortunately for my aunt she was flying on Delta and didn't have tickets for American airlines, and their mess of over three thousand cancelled flights.
Ean has been amusing his grandma too. He's very quick to correct his perceived ideas. For instance, I showed him the American sign language I love you sign. I told him what it means and he looked at me and said MOM, that isn't a four, that's a three.
Blink blink
So I repeated in telling Ean that when I held my hand like that, it means I love you.
He was very quick to jump in again and tell me that wasn't a four, that was three and then held up four fingers to show me what four looked like. It's as if I said, the grass is green and he said NO MOM, the sky is blue!!! Who can argue with that kind of logic?
A few minutes ago my mom said to him that he was my number one boy. He was very insulted because he is not one he is FOUR!! (and he isn't really four yet *laugh* but birthdays are so subjective)
A few days in, the little boys are starting to tease my mom, grin as they run out of reach. She really wants to hold and cuddle them but they just won't let her. She's got two things working against her. One, they are boys and two, the age. The twins really won't snuggle and cuddle with anyone. My mother in law would also really like to bond with them. Apparently mommy is the only one that will do.
I wonder once I get the turkeys weaned if it will be any better?
Actually all my kids have gone through a mommy only stage. Ean actually spent an entire year of his life yelling no when Kent's dad tried to touch him. Oh he changed, it just had to be on his time table. Now he can't get enough of his papa. Papa picked him up from preschool today and Ean cried when he was brought to our house. He wanted to stay and play with papa.
So there's hope for the twins.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Bedwetting
My ten year old is a bedwetter. For years and years she's used the good nights. Now I do like the concept and for overnighters and stuff, it's a great idea but our daughter has been using them as a crutch for some time now. And as much as I love the child, she's lazy when it comes to throwing the good nights away.
I thought it was gross finding them on the floor.
Well it is gross, but it's worse finding pee soaked blankets and clothes scattered all over her room.
Now I did say she used the good nights as a crutch, her wetting was cut down two thirds after we stopped buying them. She went from maybe one dry night a week to four or five dry nights a week. Huge improvement, almost overnight. Our big problem now is getting the urine smell out of her room and out of the mattress. Oh yes, the girl has a waterproof mattress cover. She actually has two, so if one is dirty, there's a spare to put on the bed.
Her sister stripped her bed last week and she didn't bother to put it back on going to sleep. She didn't even tell me she needed help making the bed, grrrrrr. Well I noticed her room smelled a few days later and I told her to bring up everything that was wet. She brought up three things. So I washed them. A few days after that, her room really smells. I go in there and there's wet stuff everywhere, including a huge spot on the carpet!!!
Picture crazy woman throwing stuff in a garabage bag like there's no tomorrow. Yeah, that was me. Those girls of mine are pefectly happy to live like pigs!
I guess the only choice I have is to ride that girl every morning to force her to deal with any wet stuff as soon as it happens. Her grandma offered to buy her more good nights, because she assumed it was purely an economical choice to stop buying them. That's not the case and I turned her down.
I really think in the end it's the best choice for Jane.
I thought it was gross finding them on the floor.
Well it is gross, but it's worse finding pee soaked blankets and clothes scattered all over her room.
Now I did say she used the good nights as a crutch, her wetting was cut down two thirds after we stopped buying them. She went from maybe one dry night a week to four or five dry nights a week. Huge improvement, almost overnight. Our big problem now is getting the urine smell out of her room and out of the mattress. Oh yes, the girl has a waterproof mattress cover. She actually has two, so if one is dirty, there's a spare to put on the bed.
Her sister stripped her bed last week and she didn't bother to put it back on going to sleep. She didn't even tell me she needed help making the bed, grrrrrr. Well I noticed her room smelled a few days later and I told her to bring up everything that was wet. She brought up three things. So I washed them. A few days after that, her room really smells. I go in there and there's wet stuff everywhere, including a huge spot on the carpet!!!
Picture crazy woman throwing stuff in a garabage bag like there's no tomorrow. Yeah, that was me. Those girls of mine are pefectly happy to live like pigs!
I guess the only choice I have is to ride that girl every morning to force her to deal with any wet stuff as soon as it happens. Her grandma offered to buy her more good nights, because she assumed it was purely an economical choice to stop buying them. That's not the case and I turned her down.
I really think in the end it's the best choice for Jane.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Greg survived
We started off the day just as planned with me taking David to the doctor for a physical. He got the healthy connections referral which should take care of medicaid. We had a little lunch, Ean came off the bus, Ean and Dave went to the neighbors and I took Greg to his appointment.
Little sweetheart kissed me and loved on me while we were waiting. It's an AWFUL feeling knowing what's coming while your child is sitting completely unaware they'll experience pain and discomfort.
Greg thought the tv on the ceiling in the procedure room was cool and he was a big ol flirt with the hygienist that was assisting the dentist. Well he was a flirt until it was time to do the shot. The hygienist stabilized his head, the dentist of course worked the shot and I held his arms and legs making sure he stayed right where he was at.
He of course started yelling as soon as he was restrained, who can blame him? I didn't watch. I kept my head turned and my eyes closed. Seeing him so upset and hurting even though it was for the best would have been to much. He managed to jerk his head a little bit so there was a touch more bleeding from his gums but he comforted quickly after they stopped.
We watched the tv on the ceiling a bit more. I showed him the patients chair and the hygienist's chair made a great drum set. *laugh* There was music playing and I danced a bit while holding him.
Greg is not a dummy. He knew something more was up. He got his coat and announced it was time to leave.
Fortunately the dentist and hygienist came back in and we were able to get it over with. I started to watch while holding his arms and legs again but I couldn't. As soon as I saw the tool for pulling teeth, I had to turn my head. The dentist remarked it was an awfully soft tooth and I looked over to see him getting a different tool, the tooth had broken off. So poor guy, it was more traumatic then anticipated.
When it was done, the dentist gave me a chance to hold him and apply gauze and pressure to the wound.
He bit me.
I was more careful after that. He really didn't want me to touch him so the hygienist held his head so I could apply pressure better. Finally it stopped oozing and I could just hold him. He settled down fast after that. Actually fell asleep in the car. I collected the other boys and put the boys down for a nap. Boy you could tell Greg needed a nap.
I heard noise a bit later and thought Dave was up, nope it was Greg. When Dave finally woke up a few hours later and Greg saw him, Greg giggled with delight, put his arms around him and just held him. Dave patted Greg's back. I would have loved to hear what they would have said to each other if they'd been verbal.
Later on Greg decided he needed me and if Dave tried to come near me, Greg started to scream. Somewhere Dave bit him. I'm not sure when but the size of the bite mark, definitely a two year old.
They're both in bed now. One down, one to go. The seventeenth is Dave's surgery. Dave will be asleep so it won't be the same kind of traumatic for him.
I still hate having to do this to them, even though it's for their own good and they'll be healthier because of it. It seems to really go against my mommy mode to see them hurt and scared.
Little sweetheart kissed me and loved on me while we were waiting. It's an AWFUL feeling knowing what's coming while your child is sitting completely unaware they'll experience pain and discomfort.
Greg thought the tv on the ceiling in the procedure room was cool and he was a big ol flirt with the hygienist that was assisting the dentist. Well he was a flirt until it was time to do the shot. The hygienist stabilized his head, the dentist of course worked the shot and I held his arms and legs making sure he stayed right where he was at.
He of course started yelling as soon as he was restrained, who can blame him? I didn't watch. I kept my head turned and my eyes closed. Seeing him so upset and hurting even though it was for the best would have been to much. He managed to jerk his head a little bit so there was a touch more bleeding from his gums but he comforted quickly after they stopped.
We watched the tv on the ceiling a bit more. I showed him the patients chair and the hygienist's chair made a great drum set. *laugh* There was music playing and I danced a bit while holding him.
Greg is not a dummy. He knew something more was up. He got his coat and announced it was time to leave.
Fortunately the dentist and hygienist came back in and we were able to get it over with. I started to watch while holding his arms and legs again but I couldn't. As soon as I saw the tool for pulling teeth, I had to turn my head. The dentist remarked it was an awfully soft tooth and I looked over to see him getting a different tool, the tooth had broken off. So poor guy, it was more traumatic then anticipated.
When it was done, the dentist gave me a chance to hold him and apply gauze and pressure to the wound.
He bit me.
I was more careful after that. He really didn't want me to touch him so the hygienist held his head so I could apply pressure better. Finally it stopped oozing and I could just hold him. He settled down fast after that. Actually fell asleep in the car. I collected the other boys and put the boys down for a nap. Boy you could tell Greg needed a nap.
I heard noise a bit later and thought Dave was up, nope it was Greg. When Dave finally woke up a few hours later and Greg saw him, Greg giggled with delight, put his arms around him and just held him. Dave patted Greg's back. I would have loved to hear what they would have said to each other if they'd been verbal.
Later on Greg decided he needed me and if Dave tried to come near me, Greg started to scream. Somewhere Dave bit him. I'm not sure when but the size of the bite mark, definitely a two year old.
They're both in bed now. One down, one to go. The seventeenth is Dave's surgery. Dave will be asleep so it won't be the same kind of traumatic for him.
I still hate having to do this to them, even though it's for their own good and they'll be healthier because of it. It seems to really go against my mommy mode to see them hurt and scared.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
I'm really nervous about Greg's tooth.
He gets it pulled tomorrow. Crazy crazy schedule for us. The three oldest have school, Ean goes to preschool. I have to hurry and get the twins fed and ready to go the family doc at 9:15. David is getting his physical so he can get approval for dental surgery on the seventeenth.
Get home, Get Ean off the bus at 10:40. Take Dave and Ean to the neighbor's house forty minutes later. Take Greg in for his appointment at noon.
*Cry* cause my baby is hurting and not understanding what's going on.
Come home, pick up the boys from the neighbor. Pray Greg can nap so I can get some housework done. Make dinner for us and for our neighbors, it's my Thursday to cook. I could have switched or changed days but I decided to make homemade pizza and as long as everything but the dough is done before, it's not that hard. So today I've slicing and dicing pizza toppings. *smile*
I'm actually more nervous about Greg's tooth then I am for Dave's dental surgery. Dave won't remember, he's being put under. Poor Greg though...
I'll be glad when it's over.
Get home, Get Ean off the bus at 10:40. Take Dave and Ean to the neighbor's house forty minutes later. Take Greg in for his appointment at noon.
*Cry* cause my baby is hurting and not understanding what's going on.
Come home, pick up the boys from the neighbor. Pray Greg can nap so I can get some housework done. Make dinner for us and for our neighbors, it's my Thursday to cook. I could have switched or changed days but I decided to make homemade pizza and as long as everything but the dough is done before, it's not that hard. So today I've slicing and dicing pizza toppings. *smile*
I'm actually more nervous about Greg's tooth then I am for Dave's dental surgery. Dave won't remember, he's being put under. Poor Greg though...
I'll be glad when it's over.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Scissors...
It's been suggested to me that allowing children to have scissors is a good thing because it allows children to cut and use that energy and curiosity in a controlled environment. This of course assumes that you've given them material to cut and that they understand what they should and should not cut. This also assumes they have the desire to follow your counsel even though their siblings hair, clothes and possibly sheets are beckoning to them.
Yes I said sheets.
Kent and I always being careful with money tend to use one pair of sheets until they wear out and then buy a new pair. We've never spent the money on extra sheets even though it would have been terribly handy, especially when one of the kids has been sick.
We made a point to ask for deep pocket queen size sheets two Christmases ago, and that's what we got. Score! Finally, I wouldn't frantically try to get the sheets in the dryer hoping they'd be dry before bedtime.
We had two nice sets of sheets for only a couple of months and then for reasons only my then 20 month old could understand, he scored a pair of scissors and cut little V shaped cuts all through the sheet. We're talking hundreds of cuts, not something that could be repaired.
I cried.
Well last night, even though he's two years older, Ean's proved again that even when provided with direction and all the correct materials, he can't stop himself from cutting. This time it was the clothes on his back. Yes he cut his shirt and pants to smithereens. *shaking head* That kid!! When I asked him why he just repeated over and over again, Oh no mom, I cut them! Ean honey, why did you cut your clothes? MOM! NO, I cut them!
I gave up, really did I have to understand why or should I keep myself a touch saner by acknowledging there are some things I'll never understand. It's easier to try to prevent then try to get a straight answer from a kid that thinks I'm really confused because I kept asking him stupid questions.
Don't get me wrong, Ean doesn't have a monopoly. The girls have hacked their hair more times then I'd care to remember. There's also a few quilting blocks that bit the dust, my pants, a few of the girls dresses.
No, Ean isn't alone, not by a long shot. But he is the most thorough.
Yes I said sheets.
Kent and I always being careful with money tend to use one pair of sheets until they wear out and then buy a new pair. We've never spent the money on extra sheets even though it would have been terribly handy, especially when one of the kids has been sick.
We made a point to ask for deep pocket queen size sheets two Christmases ago, and that's what we got. Score! Finally, I wouldn't frantically try to get the sheets in the dryer hoping they'd be dry before bedtime.
We had two nice sets of sheets for only a couple of months and then for reasons only my then 20 month old could understand, he scored a pair of scissors and cut little V shaped cuts all through the sheet. We're talking hundreds of cuts, not something that could be repaired.
I cried.
Well last night, even though he's two years older, Ean's proved again that even when provided with direction and all the correct materials, he can't stop himself from cutting. This time it was the clothes on his back. Yes he cut his shirt and pants to smithereens. *shaking head* That kid!! When I asked him why he just repeated over and over again, Oh no mom, I cut them! Ean honey, why did you cut your clothes? MOM! NO, I cut them!
I gave up, really did I have to understand why or should I keep myself a touch saner by acknowledging there are some things I'll never understand. It's easier to try to prevent then try to get a straight answer from a kid that thinks I'm really confused because I kept asking him stupid questions.
Don't get me wrong, Ean doesn't have a monopoly. The girls have hacked their hair more times then I'd care to remember. There's also a few quilting blocks that bit the dust, my pants, a few of the girls dresses.
No, Ean isn't alone, not by a long shot. But he is the most thorough.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Ean's birth.
In the same manner that I had felt another child after Jane's birth, I felt another presence soon after Kate was born. Like Kate, I didn't know gender or personality, I only knew that the Lord was entrusting another soul into our family. Also similar to my experience with Kate, I didn't know when this person was to arrive. Kent and I used birth control the first few months of Kate's life, just to make sure we didn't have any back to back babies but after that we left it in the hands of God.
Nursing is pretty effective for me in suppressing ovulation, so I wasn't surprised that first year to not have anything happen. Actually it wasn't until Kate was 18 months that I found myself pregnant. I was really excited. I called my parents, word got out quickly. We picked out a name for that baby. Greg after Kent's favorite uncle and probably Malcolm after my dad but we weren't sure on that. We asked Kent's grandma if it was ok to use the name Greg, after all that was her son and he was deceased. She was thrilled that we wanted to use the name.
My parents came out to visit the first week in august, the year was 2002. I was queasy and not a happy camper. My dad spoiled me rotten by taking us out to eat every single night. My mom was TICKED at my dad. *laugh* It was his way spoiling me and mom couldn't stop him. It was a neat visit. We went to the zoo, we talked, we laughed. My dad cracked me up by fixing our house. He was awfully worried he'd insult Kent but Kent didn't have time and hey, if my dad was willing to buy parts Kent wasn't about to stop him. *grin*.
Mid august I started to bleed. It was happening again. That pregnancy wasn't meant to be. In a way it was easier then my first miscarriage. I'm not sure why but maybe I had a touch more faith in trusting that timing was everything and if I didn't stay pregnant then I had to be willing to trust the Lord, his wisdom and his time table. Thankfully with this loss, I didn't have the problems that I had before. It all passed on it's own. I had one day of excruciating cramping and then my physical healing went pretty fast. My emotional healing then took a dive.
If that miscarriage had been the only crisis I had to deal with then I would have been fine but it wasn't. Two weeks later, just barely when I had stopped bleeding, my mom called at 5:30 in the morning. My dad had died of an unexpected heart attack. The coroner said that he was dead before he hit the ground. It was September forth, 2002. We went had to sacrifice our savings for three plane tickets East. My cousin that lives in Salt Lake flew both ways with us. Her husband, normally a kind and caring man was so caught up with his wife leaving him for a week when he didn't think she should go, he was a complete self absorbed jack-ass right before we left.
One of the most hurtful things he said was basically, that my dad was a drunk, making it sound like that made the loss less for all of us. He never expressed condolences, that I hurt that my dad had died because he was ticked of his wife going to the funeral. Somehow he missed that my house growing up was like a second home to my cousin and her brothers. They spent a lot of time there. My cousin loved my dad almost like a second father. My cousin's husband never figured out how hurtful and insensitive he was the day after my fathers death.
Adding to the hurt of losing my father was the unintentional hurt caused by those that my dad had shared shared the good news with. So I had people I didn't even know whispering congratulations to me on a pregnancy I had lost just two weeks before.
The back to back losses put me in an awful depression. I cried a lot. The thought of doing housework, loading the washer overwhelmed me. I gradually pulled myself out but it was a long and hard road. I knew that if I had boy next I wanted to use Malcolm as a middle name, after my dad.
Actually the emotional roller coaster left me empty for some time. I stopped caring about getting pregnant. Where I got pregnant so fast with Jane after that loss it took over a year to conceive Ean and I wasn't even nursing.
I should mention that Kate was weaned about four months after my dad's death. It was just after her second birthday and I can't quite remember why but I couldn't nurse her that morning. I think I was getting Jane ready for school. Kate whimpered and whined for five whole minutes. Then she spotted the bottle of orange soda from the night before and started to scream that's what she wanted. We don't have pop in the house very often but she knew what it was! She screamed for forty-five minutes straight. The whole enchilada, kicking and screaming, it was very impressive. Obviously nursing wasn't that important to the girl. I said no the next day and she was done.
That left a big chunk of time trying to conceive without nursing and still nothing happened.
I struggled during the summer when a woman at church announced her pregnancy. She had a son the same age as Kate and this was her second pregnancy since we had our two December 2000 babies. I cried. It seemed so unfair. I lost hope for a while. Actually I don't know if you could really say I lost hope as much as I just stopped caring. It was really a dark time for me. I shut down. Went through the motions.
The one thing I did do during this time was lose a bunch of weight. I was *H*O*T*. *laugh* I was spinning 3 times a week, riding my bike that summer, hauling kids on my bike. It was awesome.
During the fall, I was at spinning class and suddenly I felt my stomach lurch. Uh, I knew that feeling. So after class I stopped by the drug store for a test and there was no doubt, I was pregnant.
This left me with a difficult doctor decision. I know that no one would have blamed me if I went to a different doctor after what happened with Kate. Our family physician was directly responsible for her injury. I prayed, a lot and I felt like going back to him was the right decision. I really was happy with that choice too.
Meeting with the doctor during that first pregnancy visit, he excitedly told me all the changes he'd made, basically changing his whole birth philosophy to avoid situations like Kates. He went into great detail on how his delivery had changed, how he now does classes to teach other doctors and med students how to avoid shoulder dystocia. How common practices like episiotomies will not free the babies shoulder. What the mom has to do to widen the pelvis.
Firmly believing there's a purpose in all things, It renewed my spirit to see his enthusiasm for a cause he now felt deeply about.
A controversial move to avoid dystocia is to induce early. This is because induced babies are more at risk for dystocia because they haven't dropped into the pelvis before labor. However, after talking with my doctor, I decided to go with the induction. Having birthed two babies vaginally, I knew that my babies don't drop until it's time to push. So really, I couldn't see how an induction would increase that risk. Also, I already had an induction at thirty-seven weeks, zero days and delivered in four hours from going on the pit. My body likes going into labor and seems to deliver a touch earlier.
It's not a decision I took lightly and I was accused by many for having an elective induction but it wasn't elective and the decision wasn't made lightly. The decision was made at eight weeks pregnant, the date wasn't chosen for any one's convenience or schedule.
I felt defensive about my decision to induce. It was ironic that women who didn't see Kate, didn't go through the agonizing first six months of her life not knowing if she'd have a permanent disability were very quick to judge me.
It was ironic that my doctor who doesn't schedule inductions unless there is a medically sound reason had five (one was me) scheduled that month. There was a very large group of National guards going over to Iraq that month and he had four OB patients at thirty-seven weeks or farther when the dad's were scheduled to leave. I can't say for sure but I strongly suspect that I would have induced if my husband was leaving for a year.
I've already written out three births, the girls and the twins. Ean was my perfect pregnancy and birth. My one memory where I can smile knowing that everything went right with the pregnancy, where no one was in trouble. What an awesome feeling and I'm grateful that I had one pregnancy that went perfectly.
I was determined to not find out the sex. Kent and my mom, who was there for the ultrasound announced they both thought it was a bad idea, so I caved. To say Kent was thrilled to be getting a son doesn't quite do his emotions justice. He beamed, just beamed.
Even though physically everything was fine, I was having some emotional problems. Since I had shut down after those back to back losses, I didn't open my heart to this little boy for a long time. Actually about half way through my pregnancy I touch my belly, felt him move and realized I felt disconnected from that baby inside. It was a scary feeling. I prayed, I rubbed my belly and talked to him, I did everything I could to connect to him and the oddest thing happened.
I must have connected because we had his name all picked out and it felt wrong. It didn't feel right. With Jane, I knew her name and once we confirmed what we both thought it was, we used it even while I was still pregnant and it felt natural. Kent's mom used the name Greg a few times while I was pregnant and I cringed, it just didn't feel right. I actually kept this to myself for a good six weeks and the disconnection between the name and the child inside me grew. I had to tell Kent.
Sensitive man that he is, Kent immediately told me To bad, the name was already picked.
What?
You didn't say that?! Oh HELLO! You're telling your pregnant wife that she can't change her mind on a child not even born. Like HELL!
Kent and I have a really good relationship and we honestly don't fight. Well at least our record was clean until this moment in time. This was the precursor of three months of fighting, almost until the birth. Kent kept saying, we'd decided, it'd hurt his grandma's feelings because Greg was her deceased son. And he was right, it did hurt his grandma and I felt/still feel terrible about that but I could not name a child something that didn't feel right.
For some reason I don't understand Jane and Kate started calling the baby Malcolm. I never encouraged or suggested they use the name Malcolm but since I had a secret desire that I never told my husband to use that name, I thought it was hysterical to hear them use it. I've wondered if my dad was whispering the name across the veil into the girl's ear.
I told Kent's mom about the girls, once again because I thought it was cute and it all blew out of proportion. Suddenly I was getting calls on how I have to name the baby Greg, how much it would hurt Grandma over and over again. My husband was one of the worst ones. So praying for patience and guidance I called Kent's grandma myself and tried to explain how I felt disconnected between the name Greg and the baby due in a few short months. She was very hurt and very upset. And my biggest regret was setting her up for that disappointment when we should have kept our big mouths shut until we were closer to the birth. There's not many things I wish I could change about my past, but I do wish I could take that hurt away.
Kent didn't realize it but I was starting to hate the name Greg. He was such a jerk about my feelings, completely dismissing my intuition, every time he announced we had a name and there wasn't a chance to change it, I got madder.
Finally Kent consented to consider other names (but he did let me know he still felt it was silly when we had a perfectly good name). We tossed a few around and had a couple we both could agree on. I did compromise that we wouldn't pick anything new until the baby was born in case I held him and changed my mind about using the name Greg. Kent didn't know how negative I felt about the name after fighting for three months.
When the name Ean was put on the list, I referred to spelling because Ian is the traditional spelling. Kent thought I'd lost my mind because his best friend growing up spelled Ean. After three months of contention and fighting I was more then willing to give on the spelling just because it wasn't worth fighting about.
The rest of the pregnancy I was reminded occasionally that this baby's name should be Greg by well meaning family members.
I was also a tad frustrated that some members of the family continued to warn me about the dangers of inductions. As I said before, this was not a decision that I had made lightly. While understanding the warnings were made out of concern, I found them intrusive. Especially when the warnings were made by those that experienced the trauma of Kate's birth with us.
The goal on Ean's birth was to have neither the baby nor me in trouble. Having done both before, I longed for healthy from beginning to end and was blessed with that health. I'll forever be grateful for this one birth experience which was uneventful. Neither my health nor the babies was ever in jeopardy. Actually my heath was excellent during this pregnancy. I went to spinning classes twice a week until the beginning of the third trimester when during class the baby kicked hard enough to hurt like crazy, apparently ticked with the motion of me hopping around on the bike.
Around thirty-five weeks we discussed when to induce. Since Kate was born at thirty-eight and a half weeks, we went a week earlier. My doctor didn't dare go earlier then that and he ordered an ultrasound to make sure that everything looked fine before scheduling the induction.
It certainly wasn't an induction for convenience! Before I left for the appointment, Kent told me that any day the next week would be fine, except the twelfth. He had a huge meeting that he couldn't miss that day. When talking days with the doctor, the twelfth was the only day that worked. So we knew, we knew our baby was going to be born on the twelfth of May. My mom had her plane ticket already bought and she was going to be there for the birth. She hadn't been to a grandchild's birth, so this was going to be a first and probably the only time. Kent's mom was also going to be there. I didn't want to exclude her after she'd already experiences both the girl's birth.
We arranged sitters for the girls. My mom wouldn't come until after a bit. Jane was walking to a friends house after school. Everything was set.
I was so nervous, I woke up super early and couldn't go back to sleep, so we called the hospital at five am to ask if I could come in. The labor and delivery nurse was shocked I was calling so early, but they only had one patient so I could come in. It really worked to my advantage because about an hour after I came in and we'd already started, three other women came in. If I'd called then, they would have told me to wait.
After I had been laboring several hours, my mom and Kent's mom showed up. Really they were there to soon. Kent's mom just kept jabbing away. Then she got a phone call and said that her mom (Kent's grandma) was outside in the waiting area and she wanted to know if she could wait there so she could come in right after the baby was born. Honestly, I felt like there was already a room full of people, I told Kent's mom to tell her to come in, she could stay for the birth if she wanted too.
When Kent's grandma came in she lost her balance and came within a hairs breadth of grabbing the sterile tool table set up for delivery. Luckily she didn't actually grab it. All the grandma's jabbered and my mom (Bless her!) suggested they visit the cafeteria for breakfast. Kent and I had a good hour to ourselves to enjoy the process and anticipate the arrival of our son.
We had the old battle ax of a nurse that was wonderful. She was so attentive, she cared so much. She was the best nurse I'd even had. She was also irreverent, opinionated and not to mention stubborn. Her personality and views on religion mirrored my dads and there were times when in the middle a contraction, she'd say something and my mom and I would both look at each other and smile. It felt like the Lord was letting my dad be with us in some small way.
At one point she wanted me to labor with the blood pressure cuff on, no flipping way was I doing that again. She said I couldn't have drugs without the cuff on and I told her, when that time came, I'd have it on. I had an intrathecal again and kept the damn cuff on. I do follow rules, even stupid ones. As soon as the intrathecal wore off, I took that cuff off again.
I was almost fully dilated for a long time. It was really strange because with the girls I had this overwhelming desire to push very early on and I didn't have that with Ean. The intrathecal slowed down my labor and contractions this time. I hadn't anticipated that. So I wasn't about to get anything else, I wanted to keep control. I used the bar over the bed and spent a while laboring there. I worked hard trying to ease that baby down. I started to push with contractions even though I didn't feel the urge to push.
Even though it was the best birth, the ideal we sought after where both of us weren't harmed or in danger, it was the most intensive and hardest physically for me in terms of work I needed to do. That lip on my cervix just wouldn't go away and I pushed much longer then the girls put together trying to pop that baby past the cervical lip. My doctor didn't actually deliver me, a young doctor fresh out of medical school was doing her labor and delivery rounds and I gave her permission to deliver me. I'd never had a woman work with me before and even though she didn't have children of her own, the level of empathy she showed during the birth process was amazing. She worked very hard under the direction of my doctor to help move that baby past the lip of the cervix.
There were times that I almost passed out while pushing. I remember blacking out and then looking around actually feeling confused and not knowing where I was when it would dawn on me that I was suppose to be pushing.
My battle ax nurse would continue to make irreverent remarks about organized religion during this time.
Finally Ean Malcolm Hill made his appearance into the world. His two grandmothers and his great-grandmother were all lined up on the opposite wall with a perfect view of his entrance into the world. I joked afterwards that all they were missing was popcorn during the show. I whispered to my husband that if we were to have anymore, I wanted no one in the room. That dear seven pound, twelve ounce baby boy was placed on my tummy. Unlike Kate where she was so obviously in trouble, Ean was so healthy. He cried and squirmed as I talked to him, touched him. Finally his cord was cut and they took him over to the table to examine him briefly. My son proceeded to pee all over the nurse. It was hysterical.
Officially he wasn't named yet. We held off because I had agreed with my husband that I would see how I felt after the baby was born. Ean was born with bright red hair and Kent's uncle Greg was a red head. Kent's grandmother felt like that was a sign that baby was suppose to be named Greg and for over a year after that, she confided to Kent's mom that she felt like we had named the baby wrong.
Of course Ean is who he is and I have no regrets about his name. I knew it wasn't Greg. I knew that name wasn't suppose to go with that child and when Kent chose to use it on one of the twins, it fit so much better. I do still regret hurting Kent's grandma and I'm sorry she had such strong feelings during Ean's birth about his name.
Actually Kent's grandma took great offense at the battle ax nurse and her remarks on religion and put a complaint into the hospital. This upset me far more then the name business. Since I allowed her to be there for my birth, to really be a spectator, I felt it wasn't her place to complain. I wasn't offended and Kent wasn't offended and we were the parents. Actually the battle ax nurse has a special place in my heart, she reminded me so much of my dad. I was thrilled to see her again, albeit briefly at the end of my pregnancy with the twins.
Ean.
My son.
Sometimes I have to remind myself what a blessing he is. *smile* My life certainly isn't ever boring with Ean. Really, the Lord must trust us to give us such a high spirited boy. In whatever way he could, I know my dad was with us on that day he joined our family. My dad would have loved Ean stories.
Nursing is pretty effective for me in suppressing ovulation, so I wasn't surprised that first year to not have anything happen. Actually it wasn't until Kate was 18 months that I found myself pregnant. I was really excited. I called my parents, word got out quickly. We picked out a name for that baby. Greg after Kent's favorite uncle and probably Malcolm after my dad but we weren't sure on that. We asked Kent's grandma if it was ok to use the name Greg, after all that was her son and he was deceased. She was thrilled that we wanted to use the name.
My parents came out to visit the first week in august, the year was 2002. I was queasy and not a happy camper. My dad spoiled me rotten by taking us out to eat every single night. My mom was TICKED at my dad. *laugh* It was his way spoiling me and mom couldn't stop him. It was a neat visit. We went to the zoo, we talked, we laughed. My dad cracked me up by fixing our house. He was awfully worried he'd insult Kent but Kent didn't have time and hey, if my dad was willing to buy parts Kent wasn't about to stop him. *grin*.
Mid august I started to bleed. It was happening again. That pregnancy wasn't meant to be. In a way it was easier then my first miscarriage. I'm not sure why but maybe I had a touch more faith in trusting that timing was everything and if I didn't stay pregnant then I had to be willing to trust the Lord, his wisdom and his time table. Thankfully with this loss, I didn't have the problems that I had before. It all passed on it's own. I had one day of excruciating cramping and then my physical healing went pretty fast. My emotional healing then took a dive.
If that miscarriage had been the only crisis I had to deal with then I would have been fine but it wasn't. Two weeks later, just barely when I had stopped bleeding, my mom called at 5:30 in the morning. My dad had died of an unexpected heart attack. The coroner said that he was dead before he hit the ground. It was September forth, 2002. We went had to sacrifice our savings for three plane tickets East. My cousin that lives in Salt Lake flew both ways with us. Her husband, normally a kind and caring man was so caught up with his wife leaving him for a week when he didn't think she should go, he was a complete self absorbed jack-ass right before we left.
One of the most hurtful things he said was basically, that my dad was a drunk, making it sound like that made the loss less for all of us. He never expressed condolences, that I hurt that my dad had died because he was ticked of his wife going to the funeral. Somehow he missed that my house growing up was like a second home to my cousin and her brothers. They spent a lot of time there. My cousin loved my dad almost like a second father. My cousin's husband never figured out how hurtful and insensitive he was the day after my fathers death.
Adding to the hurt of losing my father was the unintentional hurt caused by those that my dad had shared shared the good news with. So I had people I didn't even know whispering congratulations to me on a pregnancy I had lost just two weeks before.
The back to back losses put me in an awful depression. I cried a lot. The thought of doing housework, loading the washer overwhelmed me. I gradually pulled myself out but it was a long and hard road. I knew that if I had boy next I wanted to use Malcolm as a middle name, after my dad.
Actually the emotional roller coaster left me empty for some time. I stopped caring about getting pregnant. Where I got pregnant so fast with Jane after that loss it took over a year to conceive Ean and I wasn't even nursing.
I should mention that Kate was weaned about four months after my dad's death. It was just after her second birthday and I can't quite remember why but I couldn't nurse her that morning. I think I was getting Jane ready for school. Kate whimpered and whined for five whole minutes. Then she spotted the bottle of orange soda from the night before and started to scream that's what she wanted. We don't have pop in the house very often but she knew what it was! She screamed for forty-five minutes straight. The whole enchilada, kicking and screaming, it was very impressive. Obviously nursing wasn't that important to the girl. I said no the next day and she was done.
That left a big chunk of time trying to conceive without nursing and still nothing happened.
I struggled during the summer when a woman at church announced her pregnancy. She had a son the same age as Kate and this was her second pregnancy since we had our two December 2000 babies. I cried. It seemed so unfair. I lost hope for a while. Actually I don't know if you could really say I lost hope as much as I just stopped caring. It was really a dark time for me. I shut down. Went through the motions.
The one thing I did do during this time was lose a bunch of weight. I was *H*O*T*. *laugh* I was spinning 3 times a week, riding my bike that summer, hauling kids on my bike. It was awesome.
During the fall, I was at spinning class and suddenly I felt my stomach lurch. Uh, I knew that feeling. So after class I stopped by the drug store for a test and there was no doubt, I was pregnant.
This left me with a difficult doctor decision. I know that no one would have blamed me if I went to a different doctor after what happened with Kate. Our family physician was directly responsible for her injury. I prayed, a lot and I felt like going back to him was the right decision. I really was happy with that choice too.
Meeting with the doctor during that first pregnancy visit, he excitedly told me all the changes he'd made, basically changing his whole birth philosophy to avoid situations like Kates. He went into great detail on how his delivery had changed, how he now does classes to teach other doctors and med students how to avoid shoulder dystocia. How common practices like episiotomies will not free the babies shoulder. What the mom has to do to widen the pelvis.
Firmly believing there's a purpose in all things, It renewed my spirit to see his enthusiasm for a cause he now felt deeply about.
A controversial move to avoid dystocia is to induce early. This is because induced babies are more at risk for dystocia because they haven't dropped into the pelvis before labor. However, after talking with my doctor, I decided to go with the induction. Having birthed two babies vaginally, I knew that my babies don't drop until it's time to push. So really, I couldn't see how an induction would increase that risk. Also, I already had an induction at thirty-seven weeks, zero days and delivered in four hours from going on the pit. My body likes going into labor and seems to deliver a touch earlier.
It's not a decision I took lightly and I was accused by many for having an elective induction but it wasn't elective and the decision wasn't made lightly. The decision was made at eight weeks pregnant, the date wasn't chosen for any one's convenience or schedule.
I felt defensive about my decision to induce. It was ironic that women who didn't see Kate, didn't go through the agonizing first six months of her life not knowing if she'd have a permanent disability were very quick to judge me.
It was ironic that my doctor who doesn't schedule inductions unless there is a medically sound reason had five (one was me) scheduled that month. There was a very large group of National guards going over to Iraq that month and he had four OB patients at thirty-seven weeks or farther when the dad's were scheduled to leave. I can't say for sure but I strongly suspect that I would have induced if my husband was leaving for a year.
I've already written out three births, the girls and the twins. Ean was my perfect pregnancy and birth. My one memory where I can smile knowing that everything went right with the pregnancy, where no one was in trouble. What an awesome feeling and I'm grateful that I had one pregnancy that went perfectly.
I was determined to not find out the sex. Kent and my mom, who was there for the ultrasound announced they both thought it was a bad idea, so I caved. To say Kent was thrilled to be getting a son doesn't quite do his emotions justice. He beamed, just beamed.
Even though physically everything was fine, I was having some emotional problems. Since I had shut down after those back to back losses, I didn't open my heart to this little boy for a long time. Actually about half way through my pregnancy I touch my belly, felt him move and realized I felt disconnected from that baby inside. It was a scary feeling. I prayed, I rubbed my belly and talked to him, I did everything I could to connect to him and the oddest thing happened.
I must have connected because we had his name all picked out and it felt wrong. It didn't feel right. With Jane, I knew her name and once we confirmed what we both thought it was, we used it even while I was still pregnant and it felt natural. Kent's mom used the name Greg a few times while I was pregnant and I cringed, it just didn't feel right. I actually kept this to myself for a good six weeks and the disconnection between the name and the child inside me grew. I had to tell Kent.
Sensitive man that he is, Kent immediately told me To bad, the name was already picked.
What?
You didn't say that?! Oh HELLO! You're telling your pregnant wife that she can't change her mind on a child not even born. Like HELL!
Kent and I have a really good relationship and we honestly don't fight. Well at least our record was clean until this moment in time. This was the precursor of three months of fighting, almost until the birth. Kent kept saying, we'd decided, it'd hurt his grandma's feelings because Greg was her deceased son. And he was right, it did hurt his grandma and I felt/still feel terrible about that but I could not name a child something that didn't feel right.
For some reason I don't understand Jane and Kate started calling the baby Malcolm. I never encouraged or suggested they use the name Malcolm but since I had a secret desire that I never told my husband to use that name, I thought it was hysterical to hear them use it. I've wondered if my dad was whispering the name across the veil into the girl's ear.
I told Kent's mom about the girls, once again because I thought it was cute and it all blew out of proportion. Suddenly I was getting calls on how I have to name the baby Greg, how much it would hurt Grandma over and over again. My husband was one of the worst ones. So praying for patience and guidance I called Kent's grandma myself and tried to explain how I felt disconnected between the name Greg and the baby due in a few short months. She was very hurt and very upset. And my biggest regret was setting her up for that disappointment when we should have kept our big mouths shut until we were closer to the birth. There's not many things I wish I could change about my past, but I do wish I could take that hurt away.
Kent didn't realize it but I was starting to hate the name Greg. He was such a jerk about my feelings, completely dismissing my intuition, every time he announced we had a name and there wasn't a chance to change it, I got madder.
Finally Kent consented to consider other names (but he did let me know he still felt it was silly when we had a perfectly good name). We tossed a few around and had a couple we both could agree on. I did compromise that we wouldn't pick anything new until the baby was born in case I held him and changed my mind about using the name Greg. Kent didn't know how negative I felt about the name after fighting for three months.
When the name Ean was put on the list, I referred to spelling because Ian is the traditional spelling. Kent thought I'd lost my mind because his best friend growing up spelled Ean. After three months of contention and fighting I was more then willing to give on the spelling just because it wasn't worth fighting about.
The rest of the pregnancy I was reminded occasionally that this baby's name should be Greg by well meaning family members.
I was also a tad frustrated that some members of the family continued to warn me about the dangers of inductions. As I said before, this was not a decision that I had made lightly. While understanding the warnings were made out of concern, I found them intrusive. Especially when the warnings were made by those that experienced the trauma of Kate's birth with us.
The goal on Ean's birth was to have neither the baby nor me in trouble. Having done both before, I longed for healthy from beginning to end and was blessed with that health. I'll forever be grateful for this one birth experience which was uneventful. Neither my health nor the babies was ever in jeopardy. Actually my heath was excellent during this pregnancy. I went to spinning classes twice a week until the beginning of the third trimester when during class the baby kicked hard enough to hurt like crazy, apparently ticked with the motion of me hopping around on the bike.
Around thirty-five weeks we discussed when to induce. Since Kate was born at thirty-eight and a half weeks, we went a week earlier. My doctor didn't dare go earlier then that and he ordered an ultrasound to make sure that everything looked fine before scheduling the induction.
It certainly wasn't an induction for convenience! Before I left for the appointment, Kent told me that any day the next week would be fine, except the twelfth. He had a huge meeting that he couldn't miss that day. When talking days with the doctor, the twelfth was the only day that worked. So we knew, we knew our baby was going to be born on the twelfth of May. My mom had her plane ticket already bought and she was going to be there for the birth. She hadn't been to a grandchild's birth, so this was going to be a first and probably the only time. Kent's mom was also going to be there. I didn't want to exclude her after she'd already experiences both the girl's birth.
We arranged sitters for the girls. My mom wouldn't come until after a bit. Jane was walking to a friends house after school. Everything was set.
I was so nervous, I woke up super early and couldn't go back to sleep, so we called the hospital at five am to ask if I could come in. The labor and delivery nurse was shocked I was calling so early, but they only had one patient so I could come in. It really worked to my advantage because about an hour after I came in and we'd already started, three other women came in. If I'd called then, they would have told me to wait.
After I had been laboring several hours, my mom and Kent's mom showed up. Really they were there to soon. Kent's mom just kept jabbing away. Then she got a phone call and said that her mom (Kent's grandma) was outside in the waiting area and she wanted to know if she could wait there so she could come in right after the baby was born. Honestly, I felt like there was already a room full of people, I told Kent's mom to tell her to come in, she could stay for the birth if she wanted too.
When Kent's grandma came in she lost her balance and came within a hairs breadth of grabbing the sterile tool table set up for delivery. Luckily she didn't actually grab it. All the grandma's jabbered and my mom (Bless her!) suggested they visit the cafeteria for breakfast. Kent and I had a good hour to ourselves to enjoy the process and anticipate the arrival of our son.
We had the old battle ax of a nurse that was wonderful. She was so attentive, she cared so much. She was the best nurse I'd even had. She was also irreverent, opinionated and not to mention stubborn. Her personality and views on religion mirrored my dads and there were times when in the middle a contraction, she'd say something and my mom and I would both look at each other and smile. It felt like the Lord was letting my dad be with us in some small way.
At one point she wanted me to labor with the blood pressure cuff on, no flipping way was I doing that again. She said I couldn't have drugs without the cuff on and I told her, when that time came, I'd have it on. I had an intrathecal again and kept the damn cuff on. I do follow rules, even stupid ones. As soon as the intrathecal wore off, I took that cuff off again.
I was almost fully dilated for a long time. It was really strange because with the girls I had this overwhelming desire to push very early on and I didn't have that with Ean. The intrathecal slowed down my labor and contractions this time. I hadn't anticipated that. So I wasn't about to get anything else, I wanted to keep control. I used the bar over the bed and spent a while laboring there. I worked hard trying to ease that baby down. I started to push with contractions even though I didn't feel the urge to push.
Even though it was the best birth, the ideal we sought after where both of us weren't harmed or in danger, it was the most intensive and hardest physically for me in terms of work I needed to do. That lip on my cervix just wouldn't go away and I pushed much longer then the girls put together trying to pop that baby past the cervical lip. My doctor didn't actually deliver me, a young doctor fresh out of medical school was doing her labor and delivery rounds and I gave her permission to deliver me. I'd never had a woman work with me before and even though she didn't have children of her own, the level of empathy she showed during the birth process was amazing. She worked very hard under the direction of my doctor to help move that baby past the lip of the cervix.
There were times that I almost passed out while pushing. I remember blacking out and then looking around actually feeling confused and not knowing where I was when it would dawn on me that I was suppose to be pushing.
My battle ax nurse would continue to make irreverent remarks about organized religion during this time.
Finally Ean Malcolm Hill made his appearance into the world. His two grandmothers and his great-grandmother were all lined up on the opposite wall with a perfect view of his entrance into the world. I joked afterwards that all they were missing was popcorn during the show. I whispered to my husband that if we were to have anymore, I wanted no one in the room. That dear seven pound, twelve ounce baby boy was placed on my tummy. Unlike Kate where she was so obviously in trouble, Ean was so healthy. He cried and squirmed as I talked to him, touched him. Finally his cord was cut and they took him over to the table to examine him briefly. My son proceeded to pee all over the nurse. It was hysterical.
Officially he wasn't named yet. We held off because I had agreed with my husband that I would see how I felt after the baby was born. Ean was born with bright red hair and Kent's uncle Greg was a red head. Kent's grandmother felt like that was a sign that baby was suppose to be named Greg and for over a year after that, she confided to Kent's mom that she felt like we had named the baby wrong.
Of course Ean is who he is and I have no regrets about his name. I knew it wasn't Greg. I knew that name wasn't suppose to go with that child and when Kent chose to use it on one of the twins, it fit so much better. I do still regret hurting Kent's grandma and I'm sorry she had such strong feelings during Ean's birth about his name.
Actually Kent's grandma took great offense at the battle ax nurse and her remarks on religion and put a complaint into the hospital. This upset me far more then the name business. Since I allowed her to be there for my birth, to really be a spectator, I felt it wasn't her place to complain. I wasn't offended and Kent wasn't offended and we were the parents. Actually the battle ax nurse has a special place in my heart, she reminded me so much of my dad. I was thrilled to see her again, albeit briefly at the end of my pregnancy with the twins.
Ean.
My son.
Sometimes I have to remind myself what a blessing he is. *smile* My life certainly isn't ever boring with Ean. Really, the Lord must trust us to give us such a high spirited boy. In whatever way he could, I know my dad was with us on that day he joined our family. My dad would have loved Ean stories.
Ok, Jane's three year review.
I just signed the consent. Here's the testing that will be performed. Just a note, this in important because it decides what help she is qualified to receive from the special ed department (commonly called the resource room).
1. Intellectual/Cognitive Functioning. This will assess her ability to learn. Typically something she's struggled with in the past.
2. Academic Performance. This measures her achievements in areas such as oral expression, listening comprehension, written expression, basic reading skills, reading comprehension, mathmatics calculation and mathematical reasoning.
3. Classroom Observation. Collects information on how she performs in a classroom environment. This includes social/emotiona as well as acdemic performance.
4. Communication (speech, language) Speech assesses Jane's articulation, voice, vluency and motor skills. Language assesses Jane's receptive and expressive language skills including phonology, morphlogy, syntax, semantics and pragmatics. Please note that at this time (from the casual observation of her mother) Jane struggles with language far more then speech.
5. Auditory processing. Assesses Jane's ability to use auditory skills. I requested this testing on the advice of the boys speech therapist.
We'll see what happens with the testing.
1. Intellectual/Cognitive Functioning. This will assess her ability to learn. Typically something she's struggled with in the past.
2. Academic Performance. This measures her achievements in areas such as oral expression, listening comprehension, written expression, basic reading skills, reading comprehension, mathmatics calculation and mathematical reasoning.
3. Classroom Observation. Collects information on how she performs in a classroom environment. This includes social/emotiona as well as acdemic performance.
4. Communication (speech, language) Speech assesses Jane's articulation, voice, vluency and motor skills. Language assesses Jane's receptive and expressive language skills including phonology, morphlogy, syntax, semantics and pragmatics. Please note that at this time (from the casual observation of her mother) Jane struggles with language far more then speech.
5. Auditory processing. Assesses Jane's ability to use auditory skills. I requested this testing on the advice of the boys speech therapist.
We'll see what happens with the testing.
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