Milk it for what it's worth

So last night, with the "patch job" on her tooth, we were keeping the girl to soft foods so that she didn't run the risk of damaging the tooth further. She bemoaned the fact that she couldn't have any of her "favorite" foods... And three is not too young to lean a little towards melodrama as far as she's concerned either.

"I can't EAT mommy cause the food is too hard and it will hurt my broken tooth"

Don't worry I reassured her, I was making mashed potatoes with supper so she could eat some.

"But they're still too hard! I need to eat something softer"

Oh really? Her answer when I asked her what she had in mind?

"ummm... marshmallows? Or pudding, or jello... jello is softer"

I chuckled at that. She looked SO sincere... riding that "injured cuteness" factor as far as she could take it.

Gotta give her credit... Even if she only scored a yogurt tube ;)

Adventures in Emergency Dentistry

So we had a bang up day here.... literally.

I got a phone call from the daycare around 11:15 this morning. One of the phone calls you never want to get: Our little girl had been hit in the face with a sled while tobogganing with her friends on the small hill in their play yard. Her tooth was chipped. I could hear her still sobbing in the background when they called.... I don't think anything can make you feel as helpless as being so far away from your child when they're hurt.

I'm lucky that our dentist is just down the hall from my own office - I raced down to ask them what to do and they said they could see her as fast as I could get back with her. So by 12:30 she was sitting in the dentist's chair. Not exactly how I pictured her first visit with Dr. K.

He examined the damage and after looking at the X-ray, we could see that the tooth wasn't just chipped, it was cracked right down to below the gum line. Because he had no way of knowing if the root would be exposed if the chipped part was removed (and not wanting to traumatize his newest little patient), he immediately phoned a pediatric oral surgeon, Dr. C, and arranged for us to be seen right away.

So from one dentist's chair to another. My poor little peanut fell asleep on the trip across town but didn't get to finish much of a nap on the waiting room couch before we were seen. After looking at the tooth Dr. C had me hold her (restrain would be a better word) while he removed the broken half of her tooth.

The root was exposed. So he cleaned and sealed it (temporary fix) while we discussed options. The tooth needs to be capped... which totally sucks because it's one of her eye teeth and the rest of the smiles in her young childhood pictures are now going to have a flash of silver in them. My only choice was how we wanted to do it. He could do it immediately but it would have to be done "against her will" ... because the little adventure of just examining and then patching the break had shown us just how well she'd put up with a more invasive procedure (one that involved needles to boot!). OR, we could wait until first thing tomorrow and put her under general anesthesia and get it done without her remembering a thing.

That's a no brainer for me. I don't know if I could stand forcibly restraining my shrieking, panic-stricken baby while a 'stranger' man-handled her face and gave her a life-long fear of dentists. We had our younger son put under when he needed some extensive dental work done at age 4 and he has no memory of it and more importantly, no fear of dentists. I don't like the idea of putting her under... she so tiny and I know there are risks.... but it's just so much better than the alternative.

The only catch with opting for the general anesthesia route is that she'd need to be cleared by a doctor before they would put her under. It was already 2:30 in the afternoon. Still, I booked her in for 9:00am tomorrow and left with the paperwork... and her broken tooth. Before we left the nurse came rushing out and gave her a tiny pink treasure chest with the piece of her tooth in it.

I tried her pediatrician right away but he was out of town this week... and his back-up had been called out of the office this afternoon. Perfect. So plan B: I stopped by my husband's work on my way towards home. He had an appointment with his own doctor at the end of the day and I was hoping he could make a phone call and maybe take her along (saving me an afternoon at a walk-in clinic). But no such luck.

So we went home and I changed out of my work clothes before heading up to the walk-in clinic at the top of our street. We got there around 3:30 and put our names down to see our 3rd medical professional in 3 hours. It wasn't too bad. There was actually only one person in front of us so we only had time for one book in the waiting room before going in. By 4:00 her pre-op check was done and we were on our way.

Now we wait. She's a little fussy this evening... no doubt exhausted from an emotional and scary day, but she ate well and doesn't seem to be in any pain right now with the patch-job.

I think she'll sleep better than I will.... At least she has a visit from the tooth fairy to look forward to!

(just a couple of years sooner than I was expecting)

Never gonna happen

My daughter is obsessed with the idea of being a big sister.

I'm sure it's directly related to always being the littlest and wanting to be bigger than somebody... anybody. She wants to be bigger so bad.

Her biggest complaint in life is that she's going to be little 'For-Ever'

So I'm really not surprised with how fascinated she is that my sister-in-law is going to have a baby in May. She talks about her baby cousin daily. That's impressive considering she's only seen her auntie's belly 2-3 times in past few months.

Today, when I broke the news to her yet again that she would never be a BIG sister... because she doesn't have any brothers or sisters younger than her, she defiantly informed me that she WAS going to be a big sister... as soon as her baby cousin is born!

I didn't bother correcting her... it's as close as she's going to get. We're obviously just going to have to start spending alot more time with my brother and his lovely wife :)

A Light Went Out

The world lost one of its genuinely beautiful people today... and the lives of several of those close to mine will be much the poorer for it.

N was a woman who walked through this world with a grace that few manage. I'm sure she never crossed paths with anyone who didn't instantly like her. She and her husband H, a man I've had a special affection for since the first time we met, were just on the verge of finally having the time to enjoy life and each other.... something they deserved and had worked lifetimes toward.

But her time ran out. In a matter of months.... weeks that flew by all too fast, she's gone.

And my heart is breaking for him.

It's just so wrong... so unfair that her thread was cut so early - way too young. I'll never be able to understand the injustices of life that allow someone like her... someone so beautiful, to be taken like that.

She's gone and he's alone. When they should be planning vacations and dining with friends. Relaxing together and travelling, enjoying the fruits of a life well spent.

H and N were, are, good friends with my parents. We were friendly, but a generation removed from being good friends ourselves. Still, there was something about them.... something in H that reminded me of the best qualities in my Dad... something that made me like him the minute we were introduced six years ago. He and his wife, N, were perfect together. She was warm and welcoming and kind - and everyone loved her.

I can't help comparing them, and where they were in their lives, to my own parents. Maybe that's why this is hitting me so hard.

I'm grieving. For myself, for my parents who've lost a dear friend.... but mostly for H, the man left behind when her light went out so unexpectedly.

She spent her final days planning her own funeral... never once complaining about her own fate - just worried about how her passing would hurt him.

Why does it always seem like the brightest lights are the ones that burn out too soon?

My head hurts with it all... but not nearly as much as my heart.

Rink Rat

With two big brothers in hockey... each with 3-4 ice times per week, my girl has little choice but to spend a majority of her time kicking around hockey arenas and community centres with us all winter long.

She has fun. There are usually other siblings of players on the loose for her to play with - and she looks up to those big brothers of hers... she loves hockey... she gets very upset when we try to get out the door without taking her along (which is so much easier for us - but totally not fair in her books).

So I confess no surprise at the demands that started a while back:

Where's my hockey bag? (rolling Disney Princess duffle bag - check!)

Where's my hockey stick? (the boys' first stick, pink hockey tape from Santa - check!)

I wanna play hockey! (mom with stick & puck to pass back & forth at "practice" - check!)

Daddy, I need a jersey! (littlest jersey in the boys' old collection - check!)

The smile says it all, doesn't it? (go ahead - click on the picture... it's worth seeing full size).

I guess all I have to look forward to now is the joy of chauffering THREE kids to hockey next year. I'm trying not to think about that... 2 parents, 2 vehicles, 3 kids, 3 different directions. I'm not sure the math works - but I could stare at her grin all day long!

(Team Canada Women's Hockey 2026 Olympics? I'll let you know ;)

Stolen...

My thoughts often wander when I'm admiring or thinking about my youngest son. I have so many conflicting thoughts and feelings.

Sometimes I'm angry when I think about the things he struggles with that come so easy to most others. All the time I'm protective and want to shelter him from the ugliness in this world... that he most often doesn't see. And too many times to count, I'm so touched by his innocence and honestly that I start to cry. The love I feel for him is so fierce that catches me off guard... much like he does with his comments out of left field.

I rarely know how to put all of this into words though... which is why I was so moved by another mother's post that I decided to steal it and post it here to share with anyone who happens by... she had a wonderful way of capturing how I feel:

A Little Piece Of God
Posted by Anonymous.

I have an autistic son who is truly a bit of God broken off and fallen to this earth. I am fortunate in a million ways that he is oh... let's say autism-lite. He has none of the most challenging behavioral and cognitive elements of the disorder and his therapy is moving faster than anyone could have imagined.

I am in no way brave about this, and his diagnosis did very nearly turn me to dust, but recently someone asked that I write a letter to her friend, a stranger, who is struggling with her daughter's recent diagnosis. So I gave it my best shot.

This diagnosis is a pointing finger and nothing more. And now it’s my turn to whisper the important words - words that flicker just brightly enough to keep you from falling the whole hard way down: Your beautiful child remains your beautiful child, regardless of where a finger points. Mothers of auties pass those words down to new mothers of auties like some families pass down silver, and it may well be that this one act and these few words are the single speck of autism that we mothers hold in common. Autism is so many things, so many different ways of being.

People will ask you “what is autism?”. Believe me, they’ll ask you all sorts of things, but when they ask this particular question, they may as well ask, “what is skin?” How do you answer? How can you? But since no mother begins this trip with answers and since you cannot give what you don’t yet have, leave it, just leave it. . . Also, it’s very important right now that you pack lightly, so you must leave other people’s stuff behind. This is your trip and that pointing finger is where you start. Take this road through whatever terrain you must - anger, grief, frustration - and know that you will come out the other side a changed and stronger mother.

Go ahead and take the long road with all the hills and muddy spots. Stop where you feel the need, think a lot about turning around, and understand that you will always bitch about why you have to do all the damned driving. But you will drive and drive. And then drive some more. You will keep moving forward, I promise. Claim your place now among like-minded mothers and know that we are tough. We will stand with you shoulder-to-shoulder, stretch mark- to-stretch mark because we have all done the drive, in our own way, at our own speed with our own stretch of muddy spots.

My autie is a million kinds of magic to me. Just as he had no words for the first five-ish years of his life, nor do I have words to explain our bond. His everyday obstacles show up on time every day, but they loom only as large as we allow. So often, too often, we show off those obstacles —we set them apart and make absolutely certain that we can say, “That’s my kid there, and wow, will you just look at the size of his obstacles ? They are RIGHT THERE and THEY ARE HUGE.”

Let me be very clear now, that those same obstacles have no power over the magic, not the least little bit. Say that outloud to yourself right now. Good. This child sits closest to my heart and I can tell you that even in his worst moments, I can see tiny bits of my best self. He is unbridled joy. He has a lightness that comes in quite handy during the darks. And while my chaos is just boring mommy chaos, his chaos is—well, he’s often quite glorious in his chaos. My own road is occasionally strewn with his gifts of glory wrapped in sticky chaos.

Now, understand that these gifts are rare and precious, mostly unexpected and sometimes quite sticky. Some days you will have to look long and hard to find even the dullest one. Some days you’ll give up looking altogether. Again, please know that giving up on today can never, ever forfeit the gifts scheduled for tomorrow. Keep looking. You’ll see. My son’s diagnosis shattered me like a rock hitting glass - a big ugly hard thing hitting a not very sturdy at all thing. We sat in that tiny room with the tiny chairs and filled out those very not-tiny-at-all pages of parent questionnaires and I cried. The whole time. Long pages. Lots of crying. Not a good day, to be sure, but one that you’ve now survived.

You remember the tiny room with those tiny chairs, and you surely recall filling out the stack of parent questionnaires. You might also recall that your answers were often limited to three choices: Often, Sometimes and Not At All. So do you bend your beautiful child to fit those tight little circles? Oh, you know that answer already. And when you worry that your child's diagnosis might change how you see them, who they are, and who they might become, that answer fits quite nicely into one of those circles:

That answer is Not At All.

Apparently penis-envy is real...

Our drive to school this morning was made to the sound of my sons' uncontrollable fits of laughter. They couldn't stop giggling and squealing after their 3 year old sister announced (among her Christmas wish list items):

"I want a penis!"

(I think that's a little outside of Santa's scope honey!)

But look! She's not the only one:

http://www.tressugar.com/854010

Owned.

I get phone calls from the school.

Sometimes from teachers, often from the principal.... but always about #1 son.

You know those calls?

So yesterday, when the principal phoned me, I immediately starting thinking "lovely, what's he done now?"

I was a little surprised to find out she was calling about #2 this time.

Funny how we presume.

The call wasn't the end of the world... just something minor to talk with him about when we got home.

But I couldn't resist the temptation to see if I could make #1 squirm when he got in the van. I was SURE he'd have the same reaction I had when the principal called me earlier.

As soon as he'd hopped in the van and done up his seat belt, I turned to him and said:

"I got a call from Ms. L today"

I was waiting for him to squirm but just about died laughing when he replied:

"Not Ms. L - you mean Ms. M!"

(Ms. M teaches him french and science....this was way too good to pass up!)

"Sorry.... so you know what Ms. M was calling about?"

"I just blurted out a word in class... it wasn't even a bad word! She just said my "timing" was inappropriate!"

Then I was laughing.

"Son, Ms. M didn't call me today, you didn't let me finish; Ms. L called me today about your brother.... but thanks for letting me know about french class - you just copped to something your mom didn't know about!"

The look on his face was priceless. Realizing he'd just told on himself...

And then he was laughing along with me. We were laughing at him for thinking the same thing I had: He hears that the principal called his mom and immediately starts trying to think of what he did that day.

It was great. I owned that boy yesterday ;)

(I may have to try this again some day... who knows what this kid is getting away with?)

I'm so proud

Really.

The Coolest Room in the House!

The beaming smile says it all... He love Love LOVES his new bed and new room.

Isn't this the coolest bed ever?? Our neighbors sold it to us for a song after they bought it for their daughter and she was too scared to sleep up there. SCORE!

He's sleeping in there already - apparently he was moving favorite toys into drawers before Dad was even finished setting everything up.

We haven't even got his blind hung on the window yet but he couldn't wait.

I love putting that kind of smile on this little boy's face.

And I'm proud of his big brother (who's got to be at least a tiny bit jealous) because he's being a really great sport. Mind you, he does have a room all to himself now too. He'll be pretty pleased with himself when we get that, formerly shared, room sorted out and set up for him alone.

Great end to the day.

His RED Room

When we asked him what color he wanted he wanted his new room to be, my 8 year old said "RED!".

So red it is!

We just finished laying the carpet and putting on the baseboards tonight... and he was absolutely thrilled when we showed it to him. The boys have been sharing a room for 3 years now. It's been fine, but they're getting older and this is going to be a wonderful change for them... and they're both looking forward to being able to kick the other out whenever they want to!

This room used to be my husband's shop... although, to be fair, for at least the last year it's sole function has been a collection place for any all items in our home with no other place to go. Basically a junk storage room with alot of tools buried in there somewhere. It had the bare cement floor, the old pull-chord light, exposed frames from the inside of the walls facing out of the room... plumbing and duct work exposed... and the underside of our front entrance way. It was alot to "hide" and a ton of work to finish.

I'm thrilled just to be DONE!!

I've decided that I hate home renovating. Unless we paid someone else to come in and do it... I think I could live with that. But doing it yourself just takes so long... when all the time you have to devote to the project is the bits and pieces of your evenings & weekends that aren't already consumed by two boys in hockey.

Still... there is a sense of pride in a job well done... I'm just happy right now.

(even though I was so excited to take pictures of the "finished" product that I forgot to put the switch-plate back on!)

Tomorrow we'll bring in the new bed we bought for him. Did I say he was thrilled with his new bedroom? He ain't seen nothing yet!

SPOOKY!

It's got to be their favorite night of the year... except for maybe Christmas Eve?

Probably a toss-up... they definitely don't get this much candy at Christmas!

My oldest got all excited yesterday and went all out... digging through boxes that haven't seen the light of day in who knows how long - adding to the meager Halloween decorations I'd put up. His excitement was contagious... I even got motivated enough to pull out the window faces we haven't put up the past few years. Those things have held up well! They're just black felt and tissue paper... and probably close to 10 years old already. Still fun though... and in one piece!

My Grandmother was thrilled with our before trick-or-treating visit this year... usually we try to cram it in after the kids are done for the evening (and already tired-out from their travels) but with Halloween being on a Saturday, we were ready way too early to start going door-to-door - so off to Great-Grandma's we went.

Last year, at two, my girl enjoyed trick-or-treating and getting candy in her bag from our neighbors, but this year, at three, the pure thrill of Halloween really kicked in for her. She was awesome to watch: "Trick or TREAT!!" she'd yell at the top her lungs at each door (or usually as she was racing up their walks). She'd chatter at everyone who came to a door and most laughed at how adorable she was. "Tank-you! Happy Halloween" was her standard as she was turning to JUMP off their steps in her hurry to keep up with her big brother in the race to the next house.

I love trick-or-treating with the kids when they're little. Is there anything cuter?

My 10 year old struck out on his own this year for the first time... too cool for his little siblings now, I guess - and anxious to hook up with some friends so they could really cruise. The kid scored more than a full pillowcase of loot... I could barely lift it!

All in all, a perfect night... no snow on the ground, not too cold... and more candy in the house than I can possibly think of what to do with.

Happy Halloween!

Zero to Sixty...

We just had a weekend, right?

I missed that somehow.

Have you ever felt like you were so busy there just wasn't time to do anything.... but then something happens, like someone flicking a switch, and you realize you had no clue was busy even was??

That's how I feel right now.

Hockey season has come. My husband is coaching one son's team and I am managing another.

I haven't found my bed on the near side of midnight in over a week (not that I was particularly great at finding it before that... but before I was "wasting" time, not "spending" it)

I'm hanging tight to the knowledge that this frantic time at the start of the season... when teams are forming and everything has to be done right now, will only last for a brief time.

Pretty soon we'll be into our standard winter routine and I won't feel so pressed... I just hope we reach that point while I still have hair... or at least some left that's not grey yet.

Word to my husband: I will help you with whatever you need for your team, but if you think hockey is an excuse to abandon our son's partially finished bedroom, you're mistaken! (you don't need sleep either...so buck up!) Sincerely, your loving, but tired wife.

Filling Thier Needs

My oldest son has the most awesome teacher this year. It's the first time he's been taught by a male teacher and I was looking forward to a firmer hand in taming my oldest's ... ummm... energy, shall we say.

And as the year progresses I couldn't be happier... this teacher, Mr. N. has succeeded in gaining the kids respect and maintaining order - mostly through his creative and innovative discipline style. At the beginning of the year, Mr. N. gave parents notice that he would regularly hold kids back for 15 minutes at the end of the day if there were any difficulties during class time that needed extra attention... and asked us if we preferred to be contacted by phone or email if our child would be staying on any particular day.

When he does keep them, those 15 minutes are put to good use. The imaginative punishments doled out during his detention periods have us parents laughing almost every day.

My son's best friend NR was getting in the habit of being really slow getting his morning routine accomplished and getting to his desk during the allotted time in the mornings... yesterday was particularly bad - so he earned an extra 15 minutes at the end of his day.

15 minutes to practice his morning routine.

When his Mom got there to pick him up she got to watch him: He put his coat on, walked to the door... then turned, proceeded back to his hook, hung up his jacket, changed his shoes, sat down at his desk, turned and said "Good morning Mr. N.!". To which Mr. N. replied "Good morning NR!".

Then he did it again. He got in several rounds during the 15 minutes... and by the third "Good morning Mr. N!" it was pretty hard to keep a straight face....

Today was my son's turn.

I guess he was disrupting class with air guitar renditions.... so when I got to the school to pick him up I was informed that he was still in Mr. N's room: Doing "air guitar".

Huh?? I had no idea what they were talking about so I wandered over to his classroom and sure enough, he was standing in there doing a mad air guitar - complete with sound effects... providing background entertainment to all the parents and kids as they were leaving. And any time he quieted or slowed down, Mr. N. would encourage him to pick up the volume or pace.

He told me that my son obviously had a need to play air guitar and he's all about filling the kids' needs. I couldn't help laughing - what a perfectly appropriate punishment!

The guitar was sounding a little tired by the end of 15 minutes.... I don't suppose it's as much fun when you have to do it ;)

I love this teacher.

We made it One Whole Week.

One week to the day of NOT having to visit Children's hospital!

Only this time I got to see areas of the new Children's Emergency that I've never visited before.

After all the trips I made last week to take my youngest son in for his IV antibiotic treatments, several of the staff were familiar - and a couple recognized me... even though I was there with his older brother this time.

First time in ten years that I've ever taken a child in for a suspected fracture. We've gone for cuts (how proud am I? Every one of my three kids has a scar already!) and illnesses... and most recently major infections... But never for a broken bone.

My boy was playing "Manhunt" with his buddies after school today ( it's some version of tag they're mad about right now). He was racing around the new play structure in his schoolyard... darting to avoid a tag, when he lost his footing in the wood chips and skidded, shin-first, into one of the large, metal support columns.

I thought it was just a bad bump... you know how much really whacking your shin hurts! But a few hours later, the swelling and bruising were impressive enough to warrant a drive for pictures.

So this was the first time I've ever been sent to X-ray with my child. And I have to say, the X-ray department waiting room is so cool - the ceiling tiles are painted dark blue like a night sky and have dozens and dozens of mini-lights embedded... in the shape of the constellations even! It seems like no matter where you go in this new facility, the decorating and playful decor just make being in a hospital as fun as possible. It's awesome.

But even better is having my son's X-rays showing that there is no hairline or compression fractures hiding under the bruise. He may be limping for a day or two... and he'll be watching his first team practice from the sidelines tomorrow, but at least he won't be missing the first half of hockey season or anything.

Here's looking forward to more than a week before my next visit to the hospital!!

Our Cabin in the Woods!

Picture proof of how far we've gotten!

Two weeks ago (or was it three?)... before our boy got sick, my children stayed a day with their aunt and cousins so that we could spend one last fall day working on the cottage before we closed it down for the winter. I've been meaning to post some pictures ever since but have never made the time to do it... between the start of hockey, construction on our son's soon-to-be new bedroom in the basement... and spending the majority of the past week either in, or driving to and from Children's hospital, it hit the back burner. But better late than never!

********************************************

After two seasons of solid work (along with plenty of non-work time enjoying the place as we progressed!), our cottage is *almost* done! There's plenty of finishing left to do inside, and a deck to add to the front next summer, but we finished the siding on the shed... and my Mom & I even made the time to cut a cute little moon in the outhouse door! (painting still to come).

I've talked before about how much my family has fallen in love with the cottage community that we've built in. The kids love the time we spend up here... as do we, and I look forward to years of time spent at the cottage, building summer memories. We have power now, but just like my years growing up at our "old" family cottage, I don't intend for TV or electronic entertainment to invade our "getting away from it all" time. Right now our time is filled with the outdoors... swimming, boating, walking, bike riding and playing in the woods. In the evenings, or on rainy days, family board games, puzzles, cards and coloring fill our time. We all have so much fun together - and no one ever has the time to be board or miss what we left behind in the city.

It's perfect. And we built it all... it's an amazing sense of accomplishment: from the weekends spent clearing brush, to the early days of the building... all the way to where we are today - I have pictures of it all... including the fun we had... and everyone who worked so hard - or helped along the way: My Dad and husband, my Mom & me... my uncle and aunt and brothers - even the kids! When we're finally all-the-way finished, I plan to document it all in a scrapbook that will have a place somewhere up there... so that my children, future nieces and nephews... and their children, will be able to look back at the roots of this family cottage.

Our own little cabin in the woods.

Wishful Thinking!

(He actually asked if he could ride to his friend's house!)

Home Free!

Well we're finally home - to stay I hope! My boy received his 7th round of IV antibiotics Friday night and Doctors finally decided that we've seen enough improvement to switch to oral antibiotics instead! So they pulled his line and let us go... I'm so glad it's over.

He was so excited to have the use of both hands again... on the way home I over-heard him play-acting a conversation between the two:

"Partner! I'm so glad to see you! (picture the two hands "talking" to each other) Oh partner I've missed you so much... I never want to be away from you again. When we get home we can play with our toys and even the PS2"

Funny little man. But I get his relief at finally being set free... it must've been such a frustrating week for him trying to do everything single handed. And I'm thrilled that we didn't have to head out for the hospital for the first morning in 4 days. Thank God.

Now it's just a regular 10 day prescription of antibiotics and we should be able to put this whole thing behind us. He'll probably have a scar on the back of his leg where the infection broke through, but other than that, he'll be none the worse for wear.

4 days, $51 and a tank of gas...

So we're into day four of our twice daily trips to Children's hospital ER for IV antibiotic treatments. And my boy's been such a trooper.

I suppose it helps that the nurses and doctors there are so wonderful... after 8 shifts, there's usually a few that recognize him when we come in - and he's charmed them all just like he does everyone who spends more than 5 minutes talking to him. I don't know what it is about him that makes everyone around him just want to take care of him... but they're all so sweet and gentle with everything they do, they've made this entire week as easy as it could be.

He's comfortable. He actually likes the ER... he plays for a few minutes each time we come in... gets mesmerized by whichever movie they have playing on the big flat screen - it's such an amazing hospital. Our city is so privileged to have a facility like this here. Every part of it is designed to make being sick easier on kids (and parents). The only thing we're missing is some free parking!

But this is getting old. He cried tonight for the first time during his treatment... he was saying that it hurt and was hot - like burning as it was going in. They stopped it for a minute to give him a break, flushed his IV with some saline and then turned it back on slower... which he still didn't like, but at least tolerated better. Nothing was different tonight than any of his previous treatments... all they could figure was that because he's had the IV in for so long now, his poor little vein is probably just getting tender and irritated.

And he's so over having his hand bound. He was frustrated today at having to do everything one handed... and not being able to play with his toys, or his video games... the poor kid can't even pull up his own pants when he needs to use the washroom. He's eight and he needs someone to zip his jacket and buckle his seat belt. I'd be frustrated too. I'm surprised he went two full days before complaining about it.

I wish it could be done with. I really thought he'd only need one or two treatments before we could switch to oral... maybe three at the most.

Tonight was #5... and tomorrow morning will be his 6th. Because yeah, we've been condemned to another day...

I was disappointed to see no change when we went in this morning... but tonight? When they took off the bandage I was thrilled - excited! The redness had finally receded and was smaller than the last borders drawn... the color was down, there was less heat and the wounds looked like they were finally drying. It's a long way from healed, but the tide has turned I think!

I was totally expecting the Dr to come in and say it was time to pull the line and let him go to oral meds instead. But I respect his prudence in the decision to continue the course another day in light of this first sign of improvement first.

I'm just not looking forward to tomorrow morning's treatment after how much trouble he had with tonight's. I'll just cross my fingers that it improves as much overnight as it did over today so the Dr will decide to cut us loose after the morning dose....

At least I can sleep better tonight now that I can SEE my boy getting better. It's been a rough week...

Not so squeaky wheels

I have two kids who will scream blue murder about the tiniest little thing... aches, pains, upset tummies... you name it, it's worth getting some attention over. And then there's my youngest boy. He rarely complains. And if he does cry, you KNOW he's hurt bad.

He's the tough one I guess. I guarantee he has a higher pain threshold than I do...

Only sometimes that old saying about the squeaky wheel getting the grease is all too true... and being tough isn't a good thing.

I have one very sick little boy on my hands.

And I feel terrible because it took me so long to even realize it. I know that if it were either of my other two, I would have known and taken them in at least 24 hours sooner....

Guilt sucks. Parental guilt sucks even worse.

When I picked him up from school on Monday, he was complaining about an itchy leg... "an itchy wet leg". The "wet" thing made me stop right there and pull up his shorts leg to look... and what I saw was a small wound (like a scab that had been scratched off, or maybe a bug bite?) that had obviously been scratched at for a while. He'd made it bleed. It was gross but I'd seen much worse... no biggie.

So when we got home I took a minute to clean it up with disinfectant, put some polysporin on it and cover it with a bandaid. I even rubbed some after-bite on the area around the bandaid to calm down the itching so he wouldn't get after it any more. Then we moved on to the chaos of our evening and I never gave it another thought.

That evening, at hockey, he told his Dad that his leg was hurting. I only got this message yesterday when we were putting it all together....

Then the next morning (Tuesday, yesterday) he told me he wasn't feeling good - his stomach hurt. He seemed fine otherwise: no fever, good appetite, no other complaints... and normally I wouldn't instantly keep a kid home just because of some indefinable "sore tummy" on a school day (you know, one of those), but this is my boy who NEVER complains about anything. So I took him at his word and kept him home.

He laid on the couch watching movies, seemingly perfectly fine (no more complaints) for the rest of the morning. I decided, since he didn't really seem sick at all, I wouldn't waste the day and he could tag along with me while I ran some errands. But when he got up to get his shoes and jacket, he was limping. I asked him why and he said "I don't know, my leg is funny".

That didn't make much sense - but I just thought maybe it had fallen asleep or something from laying around for a few hours or whatever... and off we went.

I really should know better. This is my boy on the autism spectrum... he says the most bizarre things sometimes and his descriptive word choices can be totally off the wall. Like saying he has a "nervous throat" to describe that tightening you get when you're upset, etc.

I should have looked at "funny".

Instead, I drug this poor child along with me while I traipsed through the mall stopping at three stores I needed to hit... limping the whole time. But not complaining! He was just thrilled when we stopped for a few minutes at the pet store to check out the animals... and the popcorn I bought him from Kernals more than made up for the boredom of his having to wait while I shopped a bit.

It wasn't until we were back home, at 3:00 in the afternoon, that I noticed how gingerly he was sliding out of the van. It was a full 24 hours since his "itching" complaint before I asked him how bad his leg hurt and even thought to take a look at it again.

I didn't even connect the two issues: small scratched open scab + sore leg... until I looked at the red, swollen, baseball-sized area around my bandaid patch job. We left for Children's right then.

And when we got there it was relatively quiet... I told them I thought some kind of allergic reaction or infection was spreading on my son's leg. They took a look and got us into a room about 20 minutes later. And when the nurse removed my bandaid to reveal not one small wound, but a now large HOLE and a second opening both oozing puss, I think we effectively settled on infection pretty quick.

They took a sample to culture and decided, based on the extent and it's quick progression, to start him on IV antibiotics. Even though we don't really know which bacteria is involved, they've started him on something to kill both strep & staph (the most likely culprits). He has a pill he needs to take a 1/2 hour before the course of antibiotics (supposed to boost their effectiveness?)... so he got that then we had to wait. Then the actual IV takes half an hour. Then the flushing of the IV & wrapping....

They drew a line around the large red area surrounding the wounds with a pen. I remember my mother (or maybe my grandmother?) telling me never to write on myself within ink when I was a kid (after I colored myself some pall-point tattoos?) because I could get blood poisoning or something... I'm not quite sure - I just know that I've always thought it was a really bad thing to do. However, I'm going to assume that it was just another one of those old wives tales because really, these are medical doctors - so I'm not going to question them on their choice in instruments when coloring on my child. They should know, right?

The line was to mark the area so that we could see, at the time of his next IV course, how the borders of the infection area had changed. Then they dressed the wound, disconnected and carefully wrapped the IV port on his hand, and sent us on our way. We were there for about 4 hours, all told.

2-3 years ago, they started doing IV antibiotics on an out-patient basis in the ERs. I think it's a great idea. I mean, what's the point in corralling an otherwise-well child in a hospital room for days just because they need a half hour of medical care every 12 hours? My boy would have been completely stir crazy (like every other kid out there, I'm sure) within hours. But this way, he could be in the comfort of his own home until it was time to come back for another course of the IV antibiotics. And they told me that when they could see that it was working (ie: the affected area was getting smaller) they would switch him to oral antibiotics instead.

I'm still waiting for that.

My boy was so sick on the way home from the hospital after that first treatment last night. We live 20 minutes from Children's hospital - and I had to stop 3 times because he was going to be sick. He didn't actually puke until we made it to our own front yard... but it was awful seeing him feeling so bad. At our second stop he walked out from the van onto the grass area I'd stopped beside and just fell to his hands and knees.... then he put his forehead on the ground, and then lay right down on the cold damp grass. My poor baby. I picked him up and helped him back to the vehicle - I just wanted to get him home! I was so worried. I've never seen him this sick. He looked like the walking wounded... what with the limp and the hunch and now the pale "I'm-going-to-heave-any-second" look on his face.

He slept good though. And this morning when I woke him bright and early to go get dose #2, he was walking better. We had to leave at 6:30 to get there ahead of our 7:00 designated time. Every 12 hours... I guess I should just be thankful right now that he didn't get his first course at 3 in the afternoon or something awful like that! Can you imagine?? 7:00 (am/pm) I can do....

This morning we were in and out in a hour. There wasn't a single person in the waiting room (first time I've ever seen that!). It was too soon for any results from his culture... and I was sad to see that the area hadn't shrunk at all - in fact it was spread a tiny bit past the ball point border from the night before. But we were really early in the course of treatment and he was feeling so much better that everything seemed really positive. He's walking better and says it doesn't hurt much anymore... and he's his usual happy self...

We spent a pretty quiet day at home. He didn't get sick after the second treatment (thank GOD)... but he was a little more tired than usual. To be expected I guess.

We were back there tonight for course #3. And we walked in to a line-up... and a very busy waiting room. I was prepared to wait. They'd warned me that they would try to get us in as soon as possible... but emergencies, understandably, have to come first... and if there just aren't any treatment rooms open... well, you might wait. Evenings are always their busiest times... and It's OK... my kid isn't suffering (now) and I would rather see a baby in respiratory distress or a toddler bleeding profusely from a head wound go first (I've been THAT Mom before too!). But there must not have been any real emergencies... because we were in and out in about an hour & 20 minutes this time. With a Popsicle to boot.

Only tonight, when they removed the wrapping, the angry red borders of the wound have almost doubled in size. Again. In 24 hours, again. And I'm thinking they should already be shrinking if the antibiotics are working? I really thought that tonight would be our last trip... that he would be switching to oral meds because he's feeling better and everything's looking good. But that's not what's happening. I'm trying not to panic as news stories of flesh eating disease flash through my head... and I'm trying to believe the Dr's reassurances that it's expected that it will "spread a little". But double in size?? Really?

So I'm clinging to the fact that my boy tells me he's feeling better... and it's obvious that the pain is down. Neither of those would be happening if something wasn't working, right?

So tomorrow morning, bright and early once again, I will take my son to Children's for course #4 of these antibiotics. And there's a hope that the culture might be showing something... and I'm just praying that the infection is finally getting smaller. They drew a new border tonight... it takes up the entire inside and some of the back of his thigh now...

I'm ready for this to be over already. It's so ugly and awful... I took a picture of it yesterday to show my husband - and made the mistake of letting my son see what the abscesses on his leg looked like. He freaked (my bad)... and I'm thinking it's a really good thing it's in a place that he really can't see well himself... if yesterday upset him, the way it looks today would really send him over the edge.

My poor child. What a lesson this is. I have to watch, and really pay attention, to this little man so much more than his "squeaky-wheel" siblings. I have no doubts that I'll always know when something's bothering them before it's too late... but this one? This is an awful way to learn the lesson of how something so small, when overlooked for just a short time, can so quickly blow up.