World Read Aloud Day.

Who knew?
March 3rd is the day.

We all know reading to our kids is one of the best things we can do.
I wonder if my endless mutterings to myself count?

If you happen to be in the San Francisco Bay Area - check out this event:

(Click on flyer to enlarge.)




For the baby - our current read 100 times a day book is: Barnyard Dance.
I do love to skitter with the mice.

The six year old and I are reading The Hundred Dresses.

I am reading The Dive From Clausen's Pier - a bit too heavy for a knackered mommy like me though nicely written but I just finished The Middle Place which was a really good read.

I am a serious bookworm - a habit I wish to instill in the six year old and the baby.
What are you reading?

Keeping Up With The Vonns.

Ski Week. Sounds great - I have a vision of soft, fluffy powder.
The thrill of the downhill after the calm of the lift.
An afternoon of sledding, a snowman, hot chocolate.

There's one problem - we're not going to the snow.
I had been feeling fine about this.
We have other plans and ski-ing with a baby is not ideal.

Then the six year old comes home with the question.
"Why aren't we going ski-ing, I'm the only kid in my class not going?"
(Not fact - but in her mind it is.)

It's easy to explain - and the six year old is satisfied.
I mention her comment while chatting with moms at pick up.
Big mistake.

"Your kid has never been ski-ing?"
"You're leaving it too late."
(Just a reminder - she's SIX.)

I ask why they think that.
Apparently, she'll need to be in ski school with three year olds.
She'll be so far behind her friends - she'll never catch up.
The list of reasons goes on.

I find my heart racing a little bit. Are they right?
Am I holding my daughter back?
Will she be at a disadvantage?

I want you to hear that horrible screeching sound of a needle being torn off a record.
That's the sound of my common sense returning. She's six. (Did I mention that?)
What about all the other things we haven't tried yet? If we apply the same principal my child is going to be unable to play any sports, dance, play music....

I learned to ski age 21. It was hard and I wish I'd started younger but I think we have a few years.
Peer pressure - wow. I knew she would experience it - I didn't think I would.

Dollars and Sense

We got the bill for our trip to the ER.
Wow.

We have health insurance - which I have always been grateful for.
With this latest bill, I am reminded of just how grateful I am.

Although the ER trip was a three and one half hour experience, time spent with a doctor or nurse was under 15 minutes total.
We used one lavage syringe and saline, one needle and syringe and one dose of analgesic, one staple gun (reusable?), three staples and were issued one staple remover.
The stapling took place on a gurney - in the corridor.

The cost for this - $1006.89.
ONE THOUSAND AND SIX DOLLARS. It bears writing twice.

What if we weren't insured?

I appreciate the skill of the medical staff, I appreciate that we have a modern healthcare facility nearby.
I don't appreciate that the bill for this service was over ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

Parenting is stressful enough. What if, when my child tore her head open playing, I had to try and put a band aid on it and pray that it would heal and not get infected. How would I have felt as a mother if the wound was too painful to sleep on or kept bleeding?
We live in one of the richest nations in the world. How is it possible that money even enters the discussion when a child is hurt?

ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS.
The co-pay is a fraction of this but still would have bought us a weekly shop.

Regardless of politics - we need to find a way to fix this health insurance fiasco.
How much of that $1k went to a shareholder?
Politics aside - healthcare should NEVER be for profit.
A parent should never have to choose between food and healthcare for their child.

Now I get to look forward to the bill for the staple removal.
A car payment perhaps?

You know what would be really cool? If reading this made you want to drop an email to your local senator asking them to work in a bi-partisan way, to get a workable solution to the health insurance crisis in this country.

I'm jumping down from my soap box now - thanks for listening!

Life Goes On.

I am feeling better. In a full time mom kind of way.
You know - I don't feel really, really awful.

I can breath again. I am not coughing every five minutes and my throat no longer throbs.
Hallelujah!

What did you miss?

Well the staples came out of the six year olds head. Not as horrific an experience as it sounds.
Although the last little sucker put up a fight which nearly sent me to the bathroom.

Then the baby pulled her usual trick.
She is taking this business of doing everything her sister does - too far.

Yesterday was a school holiday. The six year old had a play date.
So we four girls were having a lovely day in the Northern Californian sunshine.
We went to the park and then because it really was warm - we went to get ice cream.

Those sweet moments when the kids are delighted to get a treat is so lovely to watch.
I felt relaxed and happy for the first time in weeks.

Then we went outside. For no apparent reason the baby fell over - using her face as the brakes.
Her teeth went through her top lip. She took the skin off her nose and chin.
There was a lot of blood.
I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs.

The six year olds are very concerned. I need to be calm. Get first aid for the baby and make a decision about the need for an ER trip.

It's moments like these that make me realize just how strong a mother needs to be.
I really want to just sit down on the sidewalk and cry. I want to shout help and let complete strangers take control of the situation. I want a hug from my mother.

Instead, I run with girls in tow, to the nearest store and get ice. Actually it took three stores to find ice.
I calm the six year olds down while icing the grossly swollen lip.
The bleeding slows.
I decide that even although it looks very bad - I am going to trust in the incredible healing prowess of children and skip the ER.

After a liquid dinner. The baby seems fine.
I swallow my fears that she will never look the same again.

If it's true bad things come in threes - then we are done.

I'm looking forward to the calm.


In other news - I wanted to update you on recent posts.
Little Joel passed away - thank you for your prayers. His family are deeply appreciative.
The circle of life continues - my friends, who's adoption quest I featured here last month, were matched and now have
a beautiful baby boy to complete their family.

Love Actually.

I am still sick - flirting with pneumonia I believe which is why I haven't been posting.

I did want to come by and wish you all a Happy Valentine's Day.

I hope you all feel the love that is actually all around.
(It must be - Hugh Grant said so.)

I hope for antibiotics and to see you all next week!

In The Trenches

That's my title (explanation?) for those parenting weeks when it just all comes crashing in.
My upper respiratory cold is kicking my butt. Most likely because I can't stop to be sick, rest and recover.

I am on the verge of tears at all times.
Like when I get a call from the six year olds school telling me that one of her staples has come loose/is falling out and maybe I should come and get her for a return visit to the ER.

The baby is napping. I was hoping to. The baby is, of course, now infected with my cold.
You know the drill, seems fine all day except from the tell tale runny nose - but lie her horizontal for sleep and all hell breaks loose.
Being up every two hours comforting a snotty, wailing baby does not fit in my personal recovery strategy.
(I would like you to know that I am so tired that it took me four attempts to spell strategy and I was so far off the mark the spell checker could not find a viable alternative. It did suggest tragedy - dramatic but poetic - I feel.)
Oh and did I mention that she is teething?

Back to the staples. I decide that I will not wake the baby so ask the school just to ignore dangling staple unless there is blood in large quantities. Amazingly - they agree.

I spend the next two hours feeling guilty and imagine a yawning hole spreading across the back of the six year old's head.
I am therefore unable to nap.

At pick up - I discover the staple is wiggly at best. it does not seem at risk for falling out. We do not go to the ER.

Instead we come home to work on the 28 Valentines needed for Friday.
I picture a sweet crafting session. I seem to have forgotten about the baby. I bought 28 wooden hearts for the six year old to decorate. What was I thinking? (Probably how much I'd like to be in bed with a hot drink and a good book.)
The baby is furious. She is literally standing with her arms folded across her chest giving me a filthy look.

"Me do too!" she asserts - quite rightly.

"Of course lovey - here's yours" I say, whilst lamely giving her a piece of paper and some pens.

"NO! WANT. THAT." She says pointing at the pile of wooden hearts.

With all my being I want to cry and shout "Well I want a hot bath and a day in bed but I'm not getting that am I?"
I remember just in time that I am not a teenager so instead go off in search of something that will satisfy her.
As it turns out I do have some other wooden shapes from some other craft that she is happy to scribble on.

The whole time I am spelling out the names of 28 people for the six year old to write on her hearts.
We manage to finish the 28 hearts and they look great (with the exception of one little boy's which instead of having his name on it - Jay - now bears a reference to sexual preference.)
One very creative fix later - we avoid a potential lawsuit.

We survive the dinner, bath and bed routine. I medicate the baby in the hopes of a six hour block of sleep.
The husband walks into the lions den - also showing signs of the dreaded cold. He was our last man standing. What now?
We are in the trenches.

Frankenstein.

Well it was almost seven years in the making but Thursday night we had our
(apparently required) childhood trip to the ER.

I have the luxury of a cleaner every two weeks.
The night before she comes, the six year old has to pick up her room.
All her treasures need to be on her shelves to be safe from the vacuum.

The six year old decided they all needed to be on the highest shelf. This needed a stool.
The stool tipped. She fell, smashing her head onto her wooden fort.

I was downstairs - I thought the roof had collapsed. The clatter was so loud. Then the screaming started.
At first she told me it was her foot that was hurt. I inspected it, kissed it, rubbed it and found no injury.
My relief, that she wasn't really hurt, was short lived. I popped her into my lap for a snuggle.
That's when I noticed the blood. It was pouring down the back of her head.
A quick peek confirmed my worst fear - she needed stitches.

I am a healthcare professional so my training kicked in and I calmly cleaned her up and applied ice.
I am her mother - I wanted to throw up the entire time.

I am so grateful that I have two children but trying to juggle a twenty one month old and deal with a medical trauma is not ideal. I decided not to subject the baby to the ER so we waited for the husband to get out of work and get home.

As I waved them off to the ER with my 'Everything is OK' smile plastered to my face. I fought the urge to cry, vomit and lie down on the couch in the fetal position. I still had the baby to care for.

They waited two hours to be seen. My stomach churned the entire time.
The ER was so busy they stapled my little girl's head on a gurney in the corridor.
That's right - I said stapled.
STAPLED. HER HEAD.

She came home smiling with stickers, a lolly and her prized hospital 'bracelet.'
After I settle her off to sleep, the husband and I re-live our experiences.
We are definitely more traumatized than the six year old.

It is awful to see your child hurt. It is inspiring to see how resilient they are.
In the end I felt grateful. The six year old will be fine. We have health insurance.

AND

She has the mother of all show and tell stories for Monday!

The Price of Parenthood.

So we probably knew going into this parenting thing that there were some changes coming.
We probably had been warned about the interrupted sleep. We knew it was a lot of work.
Am I the only one who didn't realize just how much change was involved?

I had a birthday this past weekend. (You can take that as an excuse for not posting.)
Traditionally, birthdays are about celebrating one person on one day.
Unless that person is a mom.

Don't misunderstand me. I was celebrated, indulged and spoiled.
It was just worked in around snacks, naps, kids music, Candyland and diapers.

I found myself yearning for an adult day.
I could just do it and make the kids live in my world for a change.
Eat on my schedule at a restaurant without paper place mats with crayons.
Listen to my music - at volume.
Let the laundry and dishes pile up.
We all know it would never work.

In addition - I am sick. I should have spent at least one of the past 6 days in bed.
Mommies are not allowed to be sick.
Sick means going to bed as soon as the kids are in bed and not a minute before.

Having a birthday as a mom means giving the extra frosting off your cake to the kids.
It means letting them 'help' (open) your gifts.
It means letting them blow out your candles.
It means letting them hold your gifts until they have established it is not something they are really interested in.
It means that even on your birthday the kids needs and most likely their wants come first.

So planning ahead my 60th should be a hedonistic nirvana.
I'm ready.