Busy Family Is Busy

Sometimes I don't know where the days go I swear I don't. I write blog posts in my mind for this blog. I gotta get the iPhone app because I'd probably post more. But I really want to sit down and WRITE when I post and then life gets in the way and I don't.
Life like...
a little girl who is allergic to penicillin suddenly.

And this causes her mother and father hours of fright and worry. And then there is the oldest boy who gets pneumonia out of the blue and it's another trip to the doctor.

Of course there is also the Boy Scouts...they had a chili cook off. My boys didn't win but I did because now I have chili for lunch for DAYS.

Plus I had an endoscopy last week and so that as all good times.

It's been busy.

I gotta download the iPhone app for blogger.


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Busy Family Is Busy

Sometimes I don't know where the days go I swear I don't. I write blog posts in my mind for this blog. I gotta get the iPhone app because I'd probably post more. But I really want to sit down and WRITE when I post and then life gets in the way and I don't.
Life like...
a little girl who is allergic to penicillin suddenly.

And this causes her mother and father hours of fright and worry. And then there is the oldest boy who gets pneumonia out of the blue and it's another trip to the doctor.

Of course there is also the Boy Scouts...they had a chili cook off. My boys didn't win but I did because now I have chili for lunch for DAYS.

Plus I had an endoscopy last week and so that as all good times.

It's been busy.

I gotta download the iPhone app for blogger.


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The Girl Is a Double Agent I Tell You

Yes it's true. This sweet roasted marshmallow loving face, is working against me, already.

You see, I've heard so much in the news about how autistic children respond positively to iPad and iPhone that while waiting at the doctor the other day with Miles, I thought that MAYBE just MAYBE I could show him Angry Birds and he'd chill out and not act like a nutball in the waiting area.

So I fired it up and showed him a few times, and then used his finger to pull back the bird and let him see how it worked.

An iPhone addict was born that day. Every day, any minute of the day he wants my phone. He deletes my apps. He takes hundreds of pics of his face. Sometimes short films. Every day I hook my phone up to the iTunes store and reset it nicely back to the way it's supposed to be. It's sort of a small price to pay for the level of calm it bestows on him.

But sometimes I simply don't want him to have it. Like for instance NOW. Because you see - if I save it and give it to him during TV time, instead of screaming he'll sit and play Angry Birds. So I say NO or I say the phone is gone or something and he goes about his business.

Except tonight. TONIGHT after bath I've got my phone tucked in my pocket in case the husband calls from the store, and am toweling off my small humans post bath and he keeps saying "Telephone. I want telephone." I was putting him off, saying no, no phone. No phone right now. Etc.

AND THEN MY TRAITOR CHILD SAYS..."POCKET! PHONE IN POCKET!"

Don't be fooled by the sweet expression. That's a traitor. Plain and simple.
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The Girl Is a Double Agent I Tell You

Yes it's true. This sweet roasted marshmallow loving face, is working against me, already.

You see, I've heard so much in the news about how autistic children respond positively to iPad and iPhone that while waiting at the doctor the other day with Miles, I thought that MAYBE just MAYBE I could show him Angry Birds and he'd chill out and not act like a nutball in the waiting area.

So I fired it up and showed him a few times, and then used his finger to pull back the bird and let him see how it worked.

An iPhone addict was born that day. Every day, any minute of the day he wants my phone. He deletes my apps. He takes hundreds of pics of his face. Sometimes short films. Every day I hook my phone up to the iTunes store and reset it nicely back to the way it's supposed to be. It's sort of a small price to pay for the level of calm it bestows on him.

But sometimes I simply don't want him to have it. Like for instance NOW. Because you see - if I save it and give it to him during TV time, instead of screaming he'll sit and play Angry Birds. So I say NO or I say the phone is gone or something and he goes about his business.

Except tonight. TONIGHT after bath I've got my phone tucked in my pocket in case the husband calls from the store, and am toweling off my small humans post bath and he keeps saying "Telephone. I want telephone." I was putting him off, saying no, no phone. No phone right now. Etc.

AND THEN MY TRAITOR CHILD SAYS..."POCKET! PHONE IN POCKET!"

Don't be fooled by the sweet expression. That's a traitor. Plain and simple.
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The Great Mammogram Festival of 2012

I went for my first ever mammogram this week, and my first reaction was "Meh - not so bad." The center was a nice place, kind of soft woods and pink and mellow with new agey music playing. If you aren't weirded out by an elderly-ish woman man handling your boobs a lot you'll probably live.
I can see why some people say it hurts. It didn't hurt ME but I think my boobs were mightier than the machine. There is simply only so flat boobs this big will go. So they said they'd contact me in about 10 days and were very nice, even though they had to take EXTRA pics to get all of my boobs in the machine.
I chalked that up to awesome.

However, they called me the next day. And wanted to see me TODAY.

So today I went and learned that they weren't entirely happy with my mammogram as I had an area in my left breast that was so dense they couldn't quite see what was happening. They showed me the mammogram and I totally wanted to snap a pic of it for you guys but that seemed uncool, and when they left the room - they took i off the monitor so I couldn't do it then either.

But, looking at the mammogram, my first reaction was WELL YOU HAVE TO CUT ALL OF THAT OUT because it looked like some hideous, soon to kill me sort of mass. But she explained that serious density looks white like bone and not to freak (too late).

So we did some different kind of ultrasound that wasn't as easy peasy as the first one, more squishy and slightly hurty.

After that, they sent me out to this sort of waiting room area with lots of other ladies in pink robes, also waiting. I learned from them that if "the radiologist comes in, it's bad news." Right about that point, the radiologist came from one of them and she burst into tears.

Everyone in the room was in a weird sort of freak out. It was so odd. There was tea and snacks and coffee, and we're all wearing these pink robes like a cult, waiting to hear if we've got cancer or what is up. Strange sisterhood for sure. Some of them had cancer before, and now were back because something new had shown up. I felt a lot better at that point, the unknown seemed less scary than being pretty sure the bad thing was there.

Then a new lady came in and called my name to come back for an ultrasound because they STILL couldn't see. The ultrasound lasted over an hour. They found two spots, round and small - less than 1cm (I watched them measure) and lots of nothing otherwise. I swear to you, they took like 50 pictures. Eventually my back started to ache and the arm over my head was going numb. When she let me let me be done and sit up, I sat and again wished she'd left the images up so I could snap one. But she didn't so I just sat there and read email.

She came back, WITH THE RADIOLOGIST.

This was the scary bit, because the conversations around me were "This is the first one, this is the second one, here is the first one, here is the second one." I lay there while they did the ultrasounds starting all over again, looking at everything again with him watching the machine live instead of looking at stills.

After they got done, he told me that he felt like it was a duct, or a fatty deposit or a cyst and didn't look worrisome as they didn't see blood going to it. However, I have to go back in six months to make sure "nothing changes".

That's kind of disconcerting.

My diagnosis "probably benign."

That is just shy of "not benign and will in fact kill you" so, I am going to give my doctor a couple of days to get the results and then I want to talk to him. Probably benign isn't really good enough to me. I want to hear THIS IS BENIGN AND WILL NOT KILL YOU WE PROMISE which is not what they said.

So, I guess they're going to have to find a way to say that.

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The Great Mammogram Festival of 2012

I went for my first ever mammogram this week, and my first reaction was "Meh - not so bad." The center was a nice place, kind of soft woods and pink and mellow with new agey music playing. If you aren't weirded out by an elderly-ish woman man handling your boobs a lot you'll probably live.
I can see why some people say it hurts. It didn't hurt ME but I think my boobs were mightier than the machine. There is simply only so flat boobs this big will go. So they said they'd contact me in about 10 days and were very nice, even though they had to take EXTRA pics to get all of my boobs in the machine.
I chalked that up to awesome.

However, they called me the next day. And wanted to see me TODAY.

So today I went and learned that they weren't entirely happy with my mammogram as I had an area in my left breast that was so dense they couldn't quite see what was happening. They showed me the mammogram and I totally wanted to snap a pic of it for you guys but that seemed uncool, and when they left the room - they took i off the monitor so I couldn't do it then either.

But, looking at the mammogram, my first reaction was WELL YOU HAVE TO CUT ALL OF THAT OUT because it looked like some hideous, soon to kill me sort of mass. But she explained that serious density looks white like bone and not to freak (too late).

So we did some different kind of ultrasound that wasn't as easy peasy as the first one, more squishy and slightly hurty.

After that, they sent me out to this sort of waiting room area with lots of other ladies in pink robes, also waiting. I learned from them that if "the radiologist comes in, it's bad news." Right about that point, the radiologist came from one of them and she burst into tears.

Everyone in the room was in a weird sort of freak out. It was so odd. There was tea and snacks and coffee, and we're all wearing these pink robes like a cult, waiting to hear if we've got cancer or what is up. Strange sisterhood for sure. Some of them had cancer before, and now were back because something new had shown up. I felt a lot better at that point, the unknown seemed less scary than being pretty sure the bad thing was there.

Then a new lady came in and called my name to come back for an ultrasound because they STILL couldn't see. The ultrasound lasted over an hour. They found two spots, round and small - less than 1cm (I watched them measure) and lots of nothing otherwise. I swear to you, they took like 50 pictures. Eventually my back started to ache and the arm over my head was going numb. When she let me let me be done and sit up, I sat and again wished she'd left the images up so I could snap one. But she didn't so I just sat there and read email.

She came back, WITH THE RADIOLOGIST.

This was the scary bit, because the conversations around me were "This is the first one, this is the second one, here is the first one, here is the second one." I lay there while they did the ultrasounds starting all over again, looking at everything again with him watching the machine live instead of looking at stills.

After they got done, he told me that he felt like it was a duct, or a fatty deposit or a cyst and didn't look worrisome as they didn't see blood going to it. However, I have to go back in six months to make sure "nothing changes".

That's kind of disconcerting.

My diagnosis "probably benign."

That is just shy of "not benign and will in fact kill you" so, I am going to give my doctor a couple of days to get the results and then I want to talk to him. Probably benign isn't really good enough to me. I want to hear THIS IS BENIGN AND WILL NOT KILL YOU WE PROMISE which is not what they said.

So, I guess they're going to have to find a way to say that.

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My First Mammogram

I should've gotten one when I was 40 but I got pregnant. Then I should've had one when I was 41 but I was nursing. I should've have one when I was 42 but I was avoiding the doctor because I was still annoyed with him for having gutted me while conscious to remove my child.
But now I'm 43 and Dday is here. Or Mday perhaps.

They said not to wear any perfume or deodorant in the breast area. I'm assuming they mean just don't WEAR any because I don't ACTUALLY put deodorant on my breasts. Does someone DO this?
I mean how much do your boobs sweat if you need deodorant?

I could've asked this question but I was nervous and just saying "ok Ok Ok" to everything they told me to do.

So anyway, I've got hot coffee and it's storming, and I'm about to go get dressed and then try to remember not to slather my boobs with deodorant.

This should be interesting.

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My First Mammogram

I should've gotten one when I was 40 but I got pregnant. Then I should've had one when I was 41 but I was nursing. I should've have one when I was 42 but I was avoiding the doctor because I was still annoyed with him for having gutted me while conscious to remove my child.
But now I'm 43 and Dday is here. Or Mday perhaps.

They said not to wear any perfume or deodorant in the breast area. I'm assuming they mean just don't WEAR any because I don't ACTUALLY put deodorant on my breasts. Does someone DO this?
I mean how much do your boobs sweat if you need deodorant?

I could've asked this question but I was nervous and just saying "ok Ok Ok" to everything they told me to do.

So anyway, I've got hot coffee and it's storming, and I'm about to go get dressed and then try to remember not to slather my boobs with deodorant.

This should be interesting.

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The Important Stories

The weekend ritual at bed time is that the oldest boy gets into bed with me. It's his old, very little boy habit. I was a typical first time mother and had him in our bed until he was nearly three I swear. He would still sleep there every single night if allowed.
But now there is a third member of our night time snuggle before sleep.
The girl is there, with her thumb and with teddy.

We snuggle, we three. Every night he is there, he asks me to tell him the stories he doesn't remember. So I tell him how I only had a pregnancy test done at my doctor to rule that out, since they thought I couldn't have babies. I tell him how surprised I was when they called to say I was going to have him, and how hard I cried.
We laugh when I tell the story of how on my way to the visit where I learned I was pregnant with his brothers, I had a flat tire and had to change it. I was late to the appointment because I was changing a tire.
Then, I came home from what was supposed to be a routine appointment to tell his Daddy we were having a baby.

We laugh and he gets embarrassed when I tell him the girl was planned and we tried and tried for her. "No details MOM! ICK!" he giggles.

We talk about our family and the people he knows and doesn't know. I tell him stories of MY grandpa and how wonderful he was. We decide we'll make pancakes on Sunday, like my grandpa used to. He says "It'll be like he's here! That'll be spooky but nice because we can remember him even though I don't know him."

And I think yeah, it will be like that.

To me, it'll just be nice.

Because I do know him.

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The Important Stories

The weekend ritual at bed time is that the oldest boy gets into bed with me. It's his old, very little boy habit. I was a typical first time mother and had him in our bed until he was nearly three I swear. He would still sleep there every single night if allowed.
But now there is a third member of our night time snuggle before sleep.
The girl is there, with her thumb and with teddy.

We snuggle, we three. Every night he is there, he asks me to tell him the stories he doesn't remember. So I tell him how I only had a pregnancy test done at my doctor to rule that out, since they thought I couldn't have babies. I tell him how surprised I was when they called to say I was going to have him, and how hard I cried.
We laugh when I tell the story of how on my way to the visit where I learned I was pregnant with his brothers, I had a flat tire and had to change it. I was late to the appointment because I was changing a tire.
Then, I came home from what was supposed to be a routine appointment to tell his Daddy we were having a baby.

We laugh and he gets embarrassed when I tell him the girl was planned and we tried and tried for her. "No details MOM! ICK!" he giggles.

We talk about our family and the people he knows and doesn't know. I tell him stories of MY grandpa and how wonderful he was. We decide we'll make pancakes on Sunday, like my grandpa used to. He says "It'll be like he's here! That'll be spooky but nice because we can remember him even though I don't know him."

And I think yeah, it will be like that.

To me, it'll just be nice.

Because I do know him.

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