My Karma Needs A Shot Of Happy

I must have done something really, really seriously bad in a previous life.  I'm not sure which one, but I must've made quite the impression...and it wasn't the one I needed to make.


You know those women who post those oh-so-perfect pics of their children?   The ones shot by a professional photographer?  Or the ones of the kids "just being kids" and yet they're all so damn cute you feel like a sugar rod was crammed down your throat?  They blog on homemade foods and monogrammed sheets and spiritual journeys.  They find joy in every freaking moment of their day. Today I was the opposite of that.  Opposite doesn't even do it justice...I was the antithesis of that.


My morning actually started last night.  I noticed a slight red streak on my finger which began throbbing shortly thereafter.  The pain passed but there was still some redness.  Fast-forward to this morning.


I woke up to the announcement from my Better Half that he was, indeed, ill and would not be going to work.  Matter of fact, he was sick enough that he might go to the doctor.  Well, not if I don't beat him there.  The finger?  Still a wee swollen and red, but sore and definitely tingly.  So, let's get this party started.


Just to break it down, here's what followed.


Dropped Baby Girl, aka Hurricane, off at daycare.  She cried and hid behind my leg till I pried her away.  Went to doc and got said finger inspected.  Apparently it's being treated as a major infection.  How major?  Stomach-wrenching Augmentin for 10 days.  The upside is my insides should be fairly clean in a short period of time.  Came home and got the Bigs for our trip to the dentist.  Teeth cleaned and no cavities...SCORE! 


We made a pit stop at the mall for lunch and some shorts.  Things go well other than a short span of tears when I apparently went to the shops in the wrong order.  I didn't know there was a pre-planned order, but I guess so.  From here, it was off to get my wig did.


So, the wig...I love, love, love the girl who does my hair.  She is phenomenal in so many ways.  I know that more than ever because we spent lots of quality time together today.  My hair is now the perfect shade of brown/black with purple highlights...but the first time it was copper...and the second time it was copper-red. While both were okay (alright, the first one sucked beyond suckiness), it wasn't my vision.  Now it is...minus the discussion about how my hair is thinning in the front and we don't know why.  I'm a medical mystery, dude.


After Round One, Round Two, and Round Three of Hair, I stopped by the grocery store to grab some milk and yogurt (to replace all the shit being killed by my super dose of Augmentin).  Did I mention I have low blood pressure?  All this sitting to attain my perfect hair color did a number on me and I just about kissed the floor of the grocery store in the dairy aisle.  I was also partially deaf except for the whooshing sound of the blood pounding through my brain and my heart thought it was 1992 and we were raving with glowsticks.  


After I could hear and my heart took a moment to relax, we headed home where we found Better Half did indeed go to the doctor.   Conclusion:  Bronchitis.  Suhwheett!  Now we can be on antibiotics together!  The couple that diarrheas together, stays together!


Next up, Baby Girl runs through the field to the neighbor's without shoes while I chase her.  Shoes aren't so important except for sticker plants and, oh, ticks.  She makes it safely only to get kicked in the face by the neighbor.  Nice.


We decided ice cream would make things better at least for the moment.  In a loving, family moment, one kid calls the other fat and tears ensue.  We head home where the one kid goes to bed for the night and the others commence to running amok.  The oldest is then telling me how bored she is and the baby girl is busy screaming, "NO!!" at me for basically anything I say.  I'm tellin' ya, this is the life.


It is now late.  Better Half has a temperature, but the kids are all asleep.  I'm not sure where one is sleeping, but I know he is inside somewhere.  Tomorrow I will wake and start again.  I will make a call to the doctor to see if my thyroid is misbehaving, then I'm heading out with some girlfriends to do some much-needed relaxation and a concert.


I usually have some positive spin/twist to put on the chaos that is my life, but tonight?  I got nothin.  Nada, nihil, zip.  Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for all that I have..but sometimes I need a break from all that I have so I can appreciate it.  Tomorrow=Mommy Time!

Lipomyelomeningocele...That's what he said.

First, a little background...Compliments of Seattle Children's Hospital...

What Is Lipomyelomeningocele?
A lipomyelomeningocele (pronounced lipo-my-elo-men-IN-go-seal) is a rare birth defect. It affects a child’s backbone (spine).  A lipomyelomeningocele is a fatty mass that is located under the skin on the child’s back. It is usually located in the middle of the back. The mass goes inward to the spinal canal. A lipomyelomeningocele is covered in skin. You can usually see it on the outside of the child's body. It looks like a large lump.
The two biggest problems that develop with lipomyelomeningocele in children are:  The spinal cord gets stuck (fixed) to the fatty mass and the fatty mass puts pressure on the spinal cord.

It's Mother's Day, and this has been on my mind for some time, so today felt like a good day to put it out there.  As every mother knows, all of my children are special for different reasons. While you don't love one more than another, you love them differently.  Girlo Two is my tender-hearted artist.  She cries when she's angry with someone because she's more irritated at herself for feeling angry toward them.  As my firstborn, she was the first one I experienced unconditional love with, so there's always a different relationship between us than the others.

Baby Girl is such an amazing combination of us, it blows my mind sometimes.  I suppose because I'm in such a different place than I was with her sister and brother, I'm getting to enjoy parts I didn't have the ability to before.  She is stubborn, curious, loving, and firm in her nature.  I'm not sure what her specific gifts are, but I expect her to do great things.

This post is about my middle child, my sweet boy.  I did all the right things during my pregnancy...ate the right foods, didn't smoke or drink, took my vitamins, and was tested for all those various things they test for.  Everything was normal.  Then he was born. And when he was born, there was a small spot on his bum with no pigmentation. 

Because I get so sick from the meds during the surgery, I spent several hours after his and Girlo Two's births sick and sleeping.  Not pleasant, but I survived.  When I returned to my room, he was not there.  My dear friend came to see me, and she said it wasn't in the nursery, either.  I later learned they had taken him for x-rays at a different hospital with a NICU.

Long before I became pregnant with him, I remember asking my friend when she was pregnant if she was being tested for Down's Syndrome and all the other things they test for.  She said no because it would not make a difference to them.  I clearly remember saying, "But I'd want to be prepared."  There is no preparation; it is a journey with no map.

Our pediatrician, who will always be a saint in my eyes, knew there was something wrong and sent us to a specialist.  At four months, I walked into a neurosurgeon's office with my sweet little boy, and he told me there was a tumor bound to his spinal cord and surgery was needed.  I could tell by the furrows of his brow he was trying to communicate to me the seriousness in a vocabulary someone without his knowledge would understand.  His look and the convoluted images of my baby's back said what his words could not.

At five months I gently laid my baby in the arms of a nurse whose name I did not know and I walked into a waiting room for an 8 hour test of my will.  The nurses called hourly to update me, and finally he was out of surgery.  The mass was tethered to the cord and had twisted all of his nerves.  What should have been to the left and right was in front of and behind.  They had taken the tiny vertebrae out of his back and then placed them back together.  The staples ran from his tiny bum to his shoulder blades.  But, he was alive and breathing.

There is nerve damage.  Whether from the mass or the surgery, we'll never know, and it's not important.  He wears braces on his legs, and his doctors believe he will at some point ask for a wheelchair to get around.  We've had a few other surgeries since for issues related to it.  Other than these things, he is a normal boy.  He wants to work for the FBI; he has a wit beyond his years; and he beats up his sisters with annoying regularity.

On this Mother's Day, I want to say thanks for my little boy because he taught me to live life a little lighter.  I thought I'd need to be prepared for a child who needed a little more, but there is no preparation.  We take it as it comes, and we try to work out the kinks.  When I watch him walk his funky walk into school or when I hear him taking off his braces at night, I'm grateful I got him.  He will never be the little boy version of Forrest Gump who just miraculously runs out of his braces and turns into some hippie marathon runner.  That's not reality. But it's okay.  I love him as he is forever and always.