Please, Can I?

Can I call him officially potty trained if he has gone three days without an accident? Including trips to the grocery store (the infamous Blackout Trip), the pool, the dentist, breakfast at IHOP, storytime at the library, and three hours of church? And woken up dry in the morning and stayed dry during naps? Can I please? Or will that jinx the whole thing?

Always something

I took my 28 week glucose test last week. I was so paranoid about failing it and having to take the three hour test that I didn't eat anything remotely sugary for a full 24 hours beforehand. And then I prayed that my breakfast of peanut butter toast wasn't enough to put me over the edge. All that worry paid off. I came in at a safe 105 (anything under 130 is considered good).

However, I did register as anemic. It wasn't a huge surprise; I was anemic with my first pregnancy, but only enough to receive an admonition about my diet. It must be worse this time around because now I have to take iron pills. Even after a week I don't quite understand how these things work. The directions recommend I take them on an empty stomach, with a "vitamin C drink," but not within two hours (before or after) of eating wheat, eggs, or milk. What else is there to eat? Everything has one of those ingredients! So instead of snacking my way through the evening (hey, my stomach is the size of a walnut these days so I get hungry often, but can't hold much) and then going off to bed with a glass of chocolate milk and my prenatal vitamin (the perfect way to unwind after a long day), I am starving myself and heading off to bed with a glass of orange juice, an iron supplement and prenatal vitamin, a growling stomach, and a headache. It doesn't make for restful sleep or pleasant mornings...as I found out on Friday.

Friday I really needed to go grocery shopping. The best time is first thing in the morning after I drop my husband off at work, because it is not too hot and there is no one else in the grocery store. I'm quite lazy (i.e. I love sleep more than looking good) so I pretty much roll out of bed and leave the house in my PJs. Anyhow, as we were making our way down the grocery aisles I started to feel a little queasy. I scolded my self for not eating something but continued with the shopping; after all, who wants to leave what they've started and have to come back and start all over again later? Well then, as we were paying for the groceries my vision started to go a little fuzzy. I silently begged the cashier to hurry it up a little so I could find a display to sit down on for awhile. She didn't oblige, being too interested in her conversation with the cashier in the next lane, but eventually we were done and on our way.

As soon as I started pushing the cart, I knew I was going to pass out. There is a bank at the front of the store with a couple of chairs for customers, so I aimed for those and prayed we would make it before I was out cold. The world started to spin and my vision narrowed until finally everything went black. I thought we were close to the chairs so I started waving my hand around, like a blind woman, trying to find contact. "Where are the chairs Addison?" I asked my son. I never could find one and was somehow mildly aware that I probably looked like a fool, so I gave up and put my head down between my legs instead.

I'm not really sure how long I stayed that way, but thankfully my hand on the cart never came loose so I didn't suffer a terrific public fall. When my vision came back, a few foggy inches at a time, I found the chair, plopped down, and reached for the first thing I could find to eat in our cart (Quaker Oatmeal Squares - the best cold cereal ever!) My son was distressed to say the least and kept asking why we weren't going home, but I found it impossible to answer for a few minutes. When speech returned, I told him mommy was sick and so we sat snacking for a good fifteen minutes. I didn't want to risk driving home and killing my kids if I happened to black out again.

Thankfully, we made it safely home, despite my woosiness, and once the kids and cold groceries were inside, I did what any sensible, emotionally instable, pregnant woman would do...sat on the kitchen floor and balled my eyes out. I swear, it's always something. The question of the day remains, was it the anemia or the blood sugar that caused the black out, and how in the world am I supposed to balance it all?

Attack of the Dishwasher

Have you been to the ER with your kids yet? My son is three and despite my expectations for several rounds of stitches by this age, we have yet to take him in. Yesterday we got pretty close, but no cigar.

We took a family trip to Sears last night to buy a new water filter and some vacuum bags. (I don't do errands alone with the kids anymore; it's just too much of an effort for a fat pregnant lady.) We had barely arrived and were making our way to the back of the store when my ever curious son (you know the type, always looking everywhere except where they are going?) walked straight into the edge of the dishwasher display. He immediately starts screaming bloody murder. Knowing that he has a tendency to overreact, I give him a hug, tell him it's going to be OK, and to watch where he is walking in the future. He calms down after a few minutes, lets go of my legs and turns to follow my husband. And that's when I notice that there is a fountain of blood pouring down the back of his head and into the collar of his shirt. It was like a scene from "The Sixth Sense." That one where the boy is smiling and beckoning and then turns around and there is an bloody axe sticking out of his head.

Needless to say, we grabbed Addison and made for the bathroom pronto. Keith was justly worried, but I insisted that all head wounds bleed a lot, so we should clean it up and assess the damage before rushing off to the hospital. We located the men's room first so Keith had the honors of clean up duty. I felt a little weird standing outside of the restroom listening to Addison scream while men walked up to the door, hesitated for a minute or two, and then either entered or walked away. I almost felt like I needed to explain our circumstances to everyone who passed by so they wouldn't think a child was being molested in the men's room. Seriously, what would you think if you heard a little boy screaming in the bathroom?

Anyhow, I finally asked a saleswoman if she had a First Aid kit handy, just for something to do. She walked nonchalantly into the back for a few minutes and then told me someone would be coming to help me shortly. A young man walked out a bit later, empty handed, and asked what he could do for me. I told him what had happened and suddenly he was defensive.

"It happened here? Do I need to fill out an incident report?"

"No, but do you have some Neosporin or something?"

So he disappears into the back and comes out with a band-aid. A Band-aid! How is that going to help with a head wound, especially on a head full of hair? Whatever...

I tell him where to find my husband and son, "Just follow the screaming," and two seconds later the associate comes rushing out of the bathroom, runs into the back, and comes back out wearing rubber gloves and carrying an arm load of goodies, scissors at the ready.

"What in the world does he think he is doing with those?" I'm thinking. "He'd better not be trying to do stitches himself, that's for darn sure!"

By this time, I'm a little annoyed. When someone asks for a First Aid kit, you would think there would be a bit more of a rush. Not that my son's life was in any danger, but come on, at least come out prepared to help, not just to waste time asking questions.

In the end, it just turned out to be a nice surface scratch, nothing serious. We gobbed him up with antibiotic cream, filled out the stupid incident report ("Just in case you end up going to the hospital," the young man insisted. "Yeah, just to cover your tush in case we decide to sue, more like," I'm thinking,) and prayed that nobody would comment on Addison's blood matted hair or the stains on our shirts as we finished our shopping and headed out the door.

Keith tried to take a picture of the mess with his cell phone, but Addison was being too jittery so you'll just have to imagine the scene. I'm telling you, think "Sixth Sense" and you'll be right on.

Memories of Mike

Did anyone watch the Michael Jackson memorial service today? Me neither. I am recovering from a long 4th of July weekend camp out and it just didn't top my to do list. (Laundry did, however.) My husband's co-workers had it on at the office though and apparently it was quite the spectacle. So I thought, even though I wasn't Michael's BFF (heck, I never even met the guy) I would pay my own little tribute to the Prince of Pop.

My first memory of Michael Jackson occurred circa 1987 on a trip to Disneyland. He was the star of the Captain Nemo attraction, showing in 3D. Sadly, my most vivid memory is actually of the furry little flying creature that kept flitting about my head. I was so sure that if I just reached a tiny bit farther or moved just a teensy bit faster, I could snatch that thing right out of the air.

My next recollection comes from second grade. I had been invited to my first sleepover party. (Okay, probably not invited, but finally allowed to attend my first sleepover. My parents had a strict age limit for those sorts of things.) It didn't go very well. My friend's mother turned out to be a chain smoker and the only entertainment was watching Michael Jackson music videos. About the time "It doesn't matter if you're black or white" was being sung, I snuck into the kitchen and called my mom to pick me up.

Poor Michael fades from the picture for a time after this, not surfacing again until Junior year of college. My roommates and some good guy friends from our BYU ward decided to take a little road trip to San Diego. We were avid sports fans and the basketball team was playing in Cali that weekend. Our soundtrack for the trip? Michael Jackson's greatest hits. I confess I didn't know many of the lyrics. Leaving that sleepover early was finally coming back to bite me. So I sat in the back of the car and pretended to be excited. Fortunately once we hit the California border, the Beach Boys took precidence and I could join in the fun.

Fast forward a few years. I was married and expecting my first child at any moment. My younger sister was performing in a Stake Dance Festival and invited us to watch. I sat ever so uncomfortably in the high school auditorium throughout the show, enduring all of the fun comments people make when you are pregnant. "Wow! You look like you're gonna pop!" "Are you sure you aren't expecting twins? You're huge!" Things of that sort. My sister's ward eventually performed to Michael Jackson's "Thriller" and I tried to figure out where she was standing so I could tell her whether she messed up or not. Unfortunatly they were all wearing black and white face paint so that didn't go over so well. After it ended I grabbed a late bite to eat at my parents' house and then headed home exhausted. As soon as we hopped into bed...my water broke.

So I guess, despite my apathy, Mikey really has been an integral part of my life. His songs have been there in the background of so many milestones: first trip to Disneyland, first sleepover, first child. How will I face the future without him? I'm not sure, but I'll do my best. RIP Michael Jackson!

Alright, alright...

Remember me? I used to blog once. But then life happened and I decided blogging wasn't exactly a primal need to be fulfilled so I let it slip by the wayside. Just to get people off of my back though, I guess I had better write something, sometime. So here you go - the catch up blog. A list of the top ten things that have happened in the last three months.

1- Addison experienced high fever convulsion #2 at someone else's house. Another raging ear infection to blame. Are we to have this great joy visit us each time he gets an ear infection? With my luck, probably...

2- Suffered through a cousin's wedding in which my mother, some poor sucker in her ward, and I were the musical ensemble. Let me just assure you that an eighth grade musical education does not amount to much in a situation like that. Even with six months of private lessons just for the occasion, I didn't feel very confident about my performance. Hopefully the best day of my cousin's life can be remembered without the soundtrack.

3- Were surprised with the pregnancy of our third child. We will be bringing another daughter into the world come October.

4- Endured six bouts of the stomach flu with each of my two children, two rounds with the hubby, and just to make it fair, one for me. That's a whole lot of puke to clean up. Are you starting to see why I haven't been blogging?

5- Finally added a patio and porch onto the back of our house. It feels so much cooler, even if that's not reflected in the electric bill as much as I had hoped.

6- Failed time after time in potty training my son. He can still go to school wearing Pull-ups right? The other kids won't make fun of him too much will they?

7- Had fun fishing with the Carpenters despite the fact that it never stopped raining.

8- Enjoyed a week of Girls Camp (much to my surprise I admit - although Keith probably has a different opinion!)

9- Witnessed Charlotte's hundred and first step. The first 100 happened while I was away at Girls Camp!

10- Signed up for swim lessons. Despite a rough first day, we might make swimmers out of these kids yet.

Junior Birdman

I once described my dad as "Outdoorsman of the Year." "Really? Was he nominated by Hunting and Fishing magazine or something?" my boss asked in amazement. No, John, it's just the most succinct way to explain his fascination with all things creepy, crawly, living and breathing. He photographs the cactus blossoms each spring, sneaks up on owlets and ravens in their nests, and if we are lucky, even brings one home for a pet. (We all have fond memories of a certain black bird named Cobber - "friend" in Australian slang, where my dad served his mission - calling our dog, Spot, in my dad's exact tone of voice, or stealing neighboring construction workers' tools, or pecking at our toes, and chasing us off of the trampoline with a menacing glare.) There is no end to the tales of my dad destinking skunks, or tormenting horny toads to get them to shoot blood out of their eyes, or rescuing baby rabbits abandoned by their mother, or carrying tiny chipmunks around in his shirt pocket. Not quite the animal charmer, Dickon from the Secret Garden was, but close.

So, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by what happened two weeks ago. My parents and youngest sister had stopped by to drop off a belated Valentine's treat. As they were leaving, they startled a pigeon who had apparently been preparing to bed down next to our front door for the night. (That's what the droppings indicated anyway.) My dad decided to catch the poor thing. "Leave him alone!" my sister and I pled. But off he went, deaf to our cries, and scooped the bird up in one fell swoop.


I have to say, I was amazed at how easily the bird was captured, until my dad pointed out the broken wing.


"Why don't I just put him in here?" my dad said, trying to throw the bird into my living room.

"Uh, I don't think so. You're the nature lover. You should take him home with you and nurse him back to health. Mom's biology class would love to have another pet."

After five minutes of arguing, wrestling, and teasing, the bird was finally laid down under the rosemary bush out front. We had probably scared him to death, but at least he wasn't sleeping under my roof! Oh the joys of being related to a man that has yet to grow up. Here's to you, Junior Birdman - it's always an adventure, but I love you anyway!

"Up in the air Junior Birdman, Up in the air upside down..."

S-C-A-R-Y-!-!-!

Whew! I have officially survived my first high fever convulsion as a mother. (In medical lingo they are referred to as Febrile Seizures.) My youngest sister had one when I was about twelve but that's a story for another day.

It all began with my two snotty nose, coughing kids enjoying their evening bath. I had gone to the sink to fetch toothbrushes when I noticed Addison face first in the water. Sometimes he lays on his tummy, but he almost never puts his face in. "Are you swimming Addison?" I asked. No response. I went back to the tub calling his name, only to find him wildly convulsing.

A million thoughts run through your head at a moment like that. A few of mine were, "Never leave your child alone in the bath, even for a minute;" "A child can drown in an inch of water;" "I am a lifeguard and my own son is going to drown in the bath." Not very positive or helpful.

Thankfully, sometimes your body acts independently of your brain. I flipped him over, held his head and called repeatedly for my husband to come quick. Addison's eyes were rolled back in his head, he wasn't breathing and had turned blue. I figured he might have water in his lungs so I began rescue breathing. Not the pretty form that you learn in CPR/First Aid class, just me leaning over the tub blowing air in his mouth so water would come out. I might have mumbled a few panicked "What am I supposed to do's?" as well. Keith came to rescue Charlotte and I ordered him to call 911. By the time he had Charlotte in a towel and had brought an extra one for Addison, Addison had come out of it.

He coughed, vomited up some water and then fell forward, limp in my arms. He was completely out of it but at least he was breathing. I remembered the high fever convulsion my sister had had, a condition which runs pretty heavily in my family history, but I didn't recall the passing out after it was over. Freaked that it might be something crazy, I had Keith help me lift Addison's dead weight out of the tub, determined to go to the ER once he was dressed. In the meantime Keith had called his mom, the nurse, who agreed that a trip to the ER was a good idea.

We couldn't get Addison to stay awake, but were afraid to let him sleep. I then called my mom, the expert on high fever convulsions, and she reassured me that it was fine to let him sleep. His body was just worn out from being so tense. She told me to give him Tylenol, put a cool cloth on his head and get the fever down as fast as possible. If the fever lasted until morning, then I could worry about seeing a doctor. All good news, only...we didn't have any Tylenol in the house! What kind of prepared mother doesn't keep any pain killer/fever reducer on hand?!?! Not infant Tylenol, not Children's liquid or chewable tablets, not even Adult pills! (Are my kids going to survive to adulthood? Sometimes I wonder.) So off to the store Keith went. Addison was sleeping restlessly so I managed to get Charlotte nursed and off to bed.

When Keith returned, we gave Addison his dose of Tylenol, got him into his PJs and told a few stories. By now he was conscious enough to know something was going on and was kind of freaked out. So I held him on my lap and we watched old family movies until he fell asleep. It was a restless but uneventful night after that. I woke up every few hours to check on Addison, just to make sure he didn't have another seizure without my knowing it, and to force another dose of Tylenol into him. By morning his temperature was still 104+ so we went in to see the doctor.

Wonderful woman that she is, the doctor assured me that I had done everything perfectly. There would have been no use in calling the Paramedics or going to ER, as there is nothing anyone can do to treat or prevent a high fever convulsion. You just have to wait them out. Apparently there are two types and Addison experienced the milder version. The complex version can last for up to 15 minutes! What are you supposed to do if your child isn't breathing for 15 minutes?!?! He will be dead, even with rescue breathing! The good ol' doc never really answered that question, saying I didn't need to worry about it. Kids either have simple or complex seizures, not a combination of both; there is no chance of Addison ever having a complex seizure now that he has had a simple one. Let's hope she is right! The doctor also informed me that these Febrile Seizures usually occur right at the beginning of an illness and then do not repeat themselves throughout the rest of the illness. So it was pointless for me to wake up all night and check on him. Better safe than sorry I say!

Anyhow, it turns out Addison has a raging ear infection, which most likely caused the fever. Now that he is on antibiotics, we should see marked improvement soon. I hope so...that was definitely enough excitement for me. At least the first one is over though and now I'll know what to do in the future. Because I am planning to experience more of these. Lots more.

And if you have any Peterson genes in you, BEWARE! You or your child could be next!