I'll take this anyday over hemorrhaging with my husband half-way around the world

Even though half my kids are sick, and I've been sick a full month, it would be WAY harder if Danny were still deployed.  I'm also thankful it's not Pertussis-- the test came back negative.  Now if whatever it is would just go away, I could get on with my Christmas decorating and plans. 

I am thankful to be heading home.

There's nothing like being in your own home when you're sick.  No one's going to look at you cross-eyed for wearing your pajamas all day and dragging your favorite blanket around to wherever you're going to plop down. 

I am so thankful for a busy, busy week.

This last week we had two visits to the ER, several sick children plus sick relatives too. 

We had Thanksgiving and Black Friday and a surprise visit from my youngest sister Rachel and her family. 

We had my sister Leslie's birthday yesterday, and my sister-in-law Beki's wedding too.

Today is my sister-in-law Mary's birthday.  Happy Birthday Mary!  If I weren't sick, and my children too, I'd come see you!

When I was standing in line in the pre-existence, I am certain I signed up for a sister like you.

Today is my sister Leslie's birthday.  And being the totally thoughtful sister I am, forgot until yesterday to get her something.  So I bought her a bag of Rolos-- one of her favorite candies-- if not her very favorite. 

I'm thankful she's so kind and not expectant or an entitled sort.  And I'm thankful she was there when I threatened to bleed to death this summer while expecting Biscuit.  She kept our house under control and CLEAN while watching 9 kids too! 

I couldn't ask for a better older sister.  She is a model of charity and service and kindness.  She is a wonderful example to me.  Happy Birthday Leslie!  I am thankful for you.

In which Bubba wakes me up before the sunrise

Around 6 a.m. I awoke to my sister Erin's dog Bubba barking.  I thought, Silly dog is barking at leaves!  I lay in bed for a moment and decide I need to use the bathroom.  I stumble over children on the way to the bathroom and take a peek at my phone to see what time it is.  6:05 a.m. I blink to the bright phone screen and what's this? I have a new text that arrive at 6:02 a.m. from my sister Rachel, who lives in Hawaii, where it's only 3:02 a.m.

Rachel:  You out shopping?
Me:  No sleeping lol
Rachel:  Let me in its cold outside
Me:  Lol here??
Rachel:  Yes!  Shhhhh
Me:  Ok
Rachel:  Freezing

So I grab my mom's purple robe that makes me look like a fleece hippopotamus and head for the front door.  Danny says, "Where are you going?"  As if he should know, I reply, "The door!" as I fly out of the room.

There was my sister, Rachel, her hubby and her 6 kidlets.  Black Friday suddenly got more awesome than Thanksgiving. 

I am thankful for sisters. 

Thankful for a lifetime of lessons and examples

I've been thinking about my mom a lot lately and how grateful I am for everything she taught me.  One of my earliest memories is of her telling someone, "I'm a bargain Betty."  I also have early memories of her sewing all our clothes, baking homemade bread, and making our dolls.

My mom is frugal, she loves a good bargain, and she can make ANYTHING.  She can cook, bake, sew, paint,  reupholster furniture, do stained glass, the list goes on!  What did I learn from this?

I learned that there wasn't anything I couldn't do if I decided to.  And I learned that she's my greatest resource. 

Thanks Mom!  You are my thankful post for the day.  :)

This is how I decided to use my second trimester energy tonight.

I borrowed the Hoover SteamVac Carpet cleaner from the maintenance office on base to clean my living room carpet.  Every now and then I can't live with the oatmeal with raisins look of my carpet and must return it to its pure oatmeal state.

I moved the furniture out of the living room with the help of Pookie and Gabbers.  I vacuumed approximately 12 times to be sure that any loose dirt, crumbs, debris wouldn't be found in it and turned to mud by the carpet cleaner.

I borrowed two movies from my neighbor and set my kids up on the school computer to watch them.  They thought it was awesome to watch a movie on the computer while sitting on the couches in the dining room.

Then I proceeded to try to figure out this machine that was leaking all over my dining room floor.  There were no instructions.  It didn't seem so user friendly without instructions.

The children were begging for popcorn or some sort of food.  It was past dinnertime after all.  So being the health-conscious momma I like to think I am, I made them green smoothies (orange juice, fresh spinach, and frozen banana) and served it to them with a side of microwave popcorn and called it dinner. 

Then I looked up the instructions, familiarized myself with the carpet cleaner, and was ready to begin.

By then the movie was ending.  *sigh*

But I ushered them to bed, even though the twins STILL kept sneaking out to see what the excitement is, and I began to shampoo the carpet. 

It didn't seem to be working very well.  I could still see all the spots I was going over and the carpet seemed to be soaking wet-- even though I was following the instructions to a "T."  So I checked the recovery tank that holds the dirty solution.  NOT HARDLY A TABLESPOON OF GROSSNESS was in it. 

So I've been on my hands and knees with my trusty little green bissell trying to suction it all back out of the carpet before it's ruined forever.  Good thing I only got through like an eighth of the living room. 

By the way, it's difficult to crawl around with the little green machine at 24 weeks pregnant trying to suction back up all the liquid I thought WAS being sucked up.
Maybe if it were my first baby and I wasn't overweight to begin with.  But this is my eighth and well, you saw the pics in the last post.

My perspective on messes.

As the kids were finishing lunch, I was reorganizing the freezers.  I came across a bucket of chocolate & vanilla ice cream that only had about 2 1/2 " left in the bottom.  I decided to let them have it as a dessert.  After scooping up little glass dishes of ice cream, I called the oldest four in to give them theirs.  They all agreed, "Organizing the freezer is great!"

Not two minutes later, while trying to scoop the frozen yumminess out, Pookie dropped his bowl on the floor and it shattered.  As I was cleaning it up thinking about why can't it just be broken glass and why does it have to be complicated and sticky too, I had the same realization I had last night while cleaning up cream cheese chicken from a cloth-covered folding chair.

Last night we had cream cheese chicken for dinner.  The kids love it.  But if either of the twins gets anything on their hands while eating, they feel the need to shake it off.  Unfortunately, there's often a spoon in their hand still.

So last night after I confiscated their utensils and bowls, I crawled around the table cleaning up messes on the floor.  Then I had to clean up the cloth-covered folding chair coated in cream cheese chicken.  Since we got rid of the bench we don't have enough seating at the table-- thus the folding chair usage.

And I thought, Sheesh.  Why can't they be sitting in a hard-wood chair?  Why do the twins have to create the messiest outcome possible? 

And then I thought, This is probably nothing compared to the messes they may make as teenagers.  Cream cheese chicken took 30 seconds to clean out of the cloth-covered folding chair.  Ice cream and glass took about 20 minutes to get it completely cleaned up and safe.  But how innocent and small are these things compared to what I know some teenagers go through?  Some larger scale woes? 

And then I was grateful they are still small and impressionable.  They are eager to learn and receptive to teaching-- even my 10 year old.  I hugged my little buddies and sent them on their way to create more messes we'll all learn from.

My kids were a pack of wild howler monkeys today.

And don't think it was because of Easter candy. The bunny came early to our home and they had their sugar-fest yesterday.

No, it was the compounding effect of crazy going on that encouraged them to continue the madness. Yes, I'm sure of it.

We have a friend, Mike, that likes to help with the twins in sacrament meeting. Unfortunately, he makes things worse. He thinks everything the twins do is funny. He does recognize their behavior as naughty also, but he laughs at it which eggs them on. It was utter madness.

Peachie must be teething or something because she would not go to anyone today at church. Not the ladies that like to pass her around or the 10 and 11 year old girls who love to cuddle her. She wanted to sit on my lap as I played the piano in Primary and play it with her feet. Peach did not want to stand next to the high keys of the piano and play them. That resulted in her screaming which brought a kind person over to see if they could hold her-- which resulted in more screaming. She wouldn't even go to her beloved Pookie when his class came in to Primary for singing time/sharing time.

There was a few hours of calm after church when I allowed the kids to watch the Veggietales movie, Jonah, that Grandma W. sent. I let them watch it twice. Hey, I needed a nap. So I was mostly napping on the couch while they watched.

It was shortly after that I let Bun take a shower. I explained to him how we properly and thoroughly wash ourselves from head to toe. When you're 6 1/2, you sometimes need reminder instruction on how to shower. Bun decided to turn it into a shower-bath. Then at some point the bathroom turned into a water park. He told me later as I was squeezing out towels, "I didn't know it was flooding the bathroom, I was just running back and forth in the bathtub."

Squeezing out towels wasn't fast enough. So I got my thirsty mop and started sopping it up. It didn't seem to make a difference. There was still 2 inches of water on the floor in most places and a minimum of 1 inch in the higher places. Yes, the entire floor of the bathroom was soaked.

So I got out the Little Green Bissell machine. I offered a prayer to Heavenly Father which included "Please let me know if this is a bad idea and will electrocute me."

I started sucking up the water as fast as the Little Green machine let me. It got to the fill line incredibly fast. I emptied it and continued. I focused on the water pooling at the base of the cupboards-- fearing if it was there any longer there'd be water damage and could possibly cost hundred of dollars to repair. It was filled four times and emptied before I noticed it slowing down in that one area.

During this time the twins watched me at the doorway of the bathroom. I told them, "Stay there buddies. It's very wet in here and dangerous." Last thing I needed was a cracked skull and an ER visit.

The twins ran off and would come back sometimes with Peach. I called to Pookie, "Come get Peach away from the bathroom please." He'd scurry her away.

I continued with the Little Green machine. It was very helpful. And then the twins reappeared with a look of pure fear on their faces. I could hear Peachie crying. I could feel the adrenaline pumping. I raced into the living room expecting to fight off some bad guys and protect my babies.

But it was just the oldest four running amok in the dark keeping the lightswitches off whenever the twins tried to turn them on. I stood their for a minute as each one in turn noticed me standing there and then acted like it wasn't them.

I was livid. Mostly it was the lying that set me off. "It wasn't me! I wasn't turning them off! I wasn't scaring them!"

I sent them to time out corners, took away their playdate privilege (which saddens me because that means I don't get to go play with my friend too), and warned them, "You better not say a word. I'm calling Logan and Tyler's mom and NOBODY is going tomorrow. Instead you will be learning how to scrub every tiny bit of the bathroom. If any one of you is not showing obedience in learning how tomorrow, NOBODY will go to their house for a rescheduled time. Is this how you want to spend Spring Break?" There was a collective groan from the oldest four time-out detainees and then silence as they listened to me leave the message. The looks on their face to each other said, "She actually did it. She cancelled our playdate."

Everything after the flooding/terrorizing of small children seemed anti-climatic but still bothersome. Like: the kids trying to peel boiled eggs that had Egg-arounds on them and then proceeding to dig out the bits of egg they could get to and eat them (instead of oh, removing the egg-around before peeling), or also anti-climatic was the weird smeary substance from the trash can into the dining room (about 8 feet) which I quickly figured out was yolk from the boiled eggs and bits of white from the eggs swept up by a helpful Gabbers, the twins breaking into tiny bits plastic eggs and scattering them around the living room like confetti, Pookie stealing Hammy's stuffed duck and being mean to it, and then Bun's stuffed cow shortly after the duck-torture.

So glad it's bedtime. I need the madness to slow down.

Thanks for listening!

Bench: Free to a good home w/o small children. The conclusion of Tater's story.

I don't have anything super-sentimental on my mind to blog for my big birthday (35).  I shopped for a filing cabinet yesterday for my gift, felt sorry for myself that my hubby isn't with me, and ate too many Sweetart chicks, ducks, and bunnies.  So you lucky readers get the conclusion of Tater's "I almost got killed by the dining bench" story.

This is a continuation from Waiting for Tater part II.
 

 Just before 1 a.m. Danny called, "The doctor has been stitching Tater's foot for the last 40 minutes."

"Does this mean nothing's broken?  I mean, since he's stitching it up," I said hopefully.

"No, the doctor said that he believes the bones are still 'good' but they have been severed.  They decided not to amputate.  I'll fill you in more in the morning.  Try to get some sleep," he said.  "I'm not sure how much longer we're going to be here."

"No, no!  Wait!  I need to know more!  Why are they stitching him up if the bones are severed?  Is he awake or did they put him out?  Are they going to do surgery?"  I asked desperately.

Danny replied, "Well, he was awake until about midnight.  And then they woke him up when they started numbing his foot with shots about five after.  They didn't put him out-- but they gave him a procedural sedative that was supposed to make him okay with the stitching and shots.  But he wasn't really."

Then I had a flashback to my twin c-section when I was "supposed to be numb."

"Did you tell them to numb him more?!" I blurted outraged.

"They've given him more and they've reached the maximum amount.  He cries out and pulls his foot away while they're stitching and in between his eyes roll back in his head and he passes out," Danny explained.  "They HAD to stitch him.  They couldn't just leave everything flapping apart all over the place.  We'll probably be here until he fully comes out of the sedative.  They've given me referral information for Tater to see an Orthopedic Surgeon.  Try to get some sleep, I can fill you in more in the morning."

3:15 a.m. Danny and Tater came home.  SEVEN HOURS!

Danny laid him on the toddler bed in our room so his buddy wouldn't accidentally roll on him in the night.  I asked for more details, but Danny insisted he'd fill me in on the details in the morning.

Before Danny left for work he said, "Please put the bench on the curb with a sign that says, 'Bench:  Free to a good home without small children.'"

The next day was a flurry of phone calls trying to get him into the Orthopedic Surgeon who couldn't see him until we got a referral.  They didn't consider the ER visit the same referral since it wasn't the same day.  I insisted that they were still in the ER until almost 3 a.m., but it didn't count since the check-in day was the day before.

So we called the Pediatrician to get the referral sent to insurance.  That was 10 a.m.  No news by noon.  Still nothing by 2 p.m.  When I called again I said, "My 2 year old has been badly injured and severed his toes and we need to get him into the Orthopedic Surgeon before his toes DIE.  Why won't someone call me back?!"  I finally got through to someone who spoke to me in calm tones and tried to reassure me that if the hospital felt it was so urgent, they would not have let him go last night before doing the surgery.  That's when I said, "You can tell my husband that.  Just a moment, he's right here." 

Then I handed the phone to Danny.  Now if any of you know Danny in real life you'll know he's non-confrontational.  But this woman wasn't moving to help his Tater and she had clearly irritated his pregnant wife.  So Danny put on his bossy pants and got results.

The first day Tater mostly slept.  His buddy, Squdge was so happy to see him and gave him multiple hugs.  Then sadly, Squdge sat on the couch next to Tater waiting for him to wake up and play.  He waited all day.  In the evening, Tater tried to get off the couch at one point.  When the blood rushed down into his foot (that was in a splint half-way up to his knee), he cried out in pain and allowed me to return him to the couch.

The next day wasn't as easy.  The painkiller was doing a pretty good job of keeping him from crying and Tater figured out he could crawl where he needed to go.  But it was still painful for him to move around.  Danny rented two movies for him and bought a third one.  I bribed him with snacks to stay on the couch.  That plan didn't work so well.  He was still in too much pain to eat.  Now if any of you know my Tater, he is a bottomless pit.  He will eat and eat and eat.  Sometimes I think he has no fullness-sensor.  So to see my Tater reject food of all sorts was a sad sad thing.  It was also difficult to give him meds on an empty stomach.

Three days after the bench-attack, Tater saw the Orthopedic Surgeon and they determined the tip of the second to smallest toe had hope of surviving.  It had been "degloved" in the accident.  The littlest toe was nearly removed from the foot-- and that was the toe with the severed bones.  The bones looked hopeful to the doctor and were nicely alined-- so they didn't require surgery.

The doctor removed the splint and rewrapped Tater's foot.  He put him in a shoe that has a hard foam base and canvas velcro sides and strap in back to hold it on.  This did NOT work well with Tater's resolve to crawl everywhere.  It meant his injured foot was upside-down and smacking into everything along the way.  There were lots of tears.  Danny called the doctor and he promised him that Tater would figure out quickly he could walk and it wouldn't be a problem much longer.  Within a day and a half Tater was walking again.

On March 19th, they removed the stitches.  I took Tater in myself (since Danny's deployed) and got to see his foot for the first time since the blood pouring off of it that painful night.  It was scabby and stitched and smelly.  They couldn't get half the stitches out because the scabbing over it.  The doctor said that I should tell the doc that stitched him he should never use such fine stitches unless he's stitching someone's face.  He said, "The body will probably eventually shed the skin and the remainder of the stitches will fall out-- or he'll absorb them and be part of him forever."  hahaha

The doctor looked at the second to smallest toe and said, "It looks a little dusky, but there's still hope for it."  The baby toe looked strong, pretty well-healed, and promising.

and we all lived happily ever after. 

and when I Skype or email Danny again, I'll ask him where the picture is I took of the killer-bench got filed to.  Then I'll stick it on this post.  :P

Just something on my mind today

About 6:30 a.m. as I was cuddling Danny before he had to leave for work to do some deployment readiness tests, I realized that he was't going to be there for my c-section.  I knew when we learned of his deployment that he wouldn't be here for the baby's birth, but it didn't click that I'd be enduring a c-section alone. 

I started bawling.  I tried to stifle it so I wouldn't wake the three sleeping children in our room.  But you know what happens when you're bawling and try to stop it?  The ugly cry.  It got ugly.  So then I just tried to quiet it with my blanket. 

Remember my first c-section-- the twin birth story?  I know not every c-section is like that.  But I was pretty traumatized.  And even though through Peach's c-section I was numb, it was still uncomfortable after she was pulled out and they were shoving my guts all around and pressing on my lungs rearranging things and whatnot.  I didn't want to do that alone. 
Danny's mom has talked about probably being able to come when the baby is born.  But she would be with the other 7 kids.  And whether or not Danny could connect with me via Skype, I wasn't sure my doctor would allow it.  And I can't squeeze Danny's hand over the computer. 

So I called family.  I am hoping my older sister can be with me.  As much as I love my ward and neighbors, I don't want them to see my guts.  Haha!  I actually don't think I'd be comfortable with their presence.  But I think Leslie can handle it.  I hope anyway.  Maybe if the doctor approves using Skype in the operating room Leslie can hold the computer.  That's also assuming it's a good day to connect with Danny.  *fingers crossed*

Is this a joke? It's a terrible one!

Danny called me today from work.  This is unusual.  Usually I call him.  sometimes lots of times.  But he called ME today.  And you know what he said?

"What are you doing?" he asked me. 

I said, "Something.  Why are you asking?"  (I was wasting time playing a game on the laptop and thinking about finishing Tater's story.)  

"Are you sitting down?" he said. 

COMPLETELY oblivious to pending doom I snarked out, "Yes of course.  You know I have this fainting thing?"

"I just picked up a short notice tasker.  I have to report in about two weeks," he said, quite seriously.

"What?"  That's when I dropped the phone and maybe I was shaking a little too.

"Wait what?  Just say it!  What does that mean?  Are you..." I started to say.

"Yes, I'm deploying," he cut me off.

"Is this a joke?  It's a terrible one!" my heart was racing, my thoughts too. And the room may have started spinning.

Waiting for Tater (Part II)

I sadly put my Tater on the carseat that was affixed to the ambulance stretcher.  The EMTs reassured me that they had plenty of blankets to keep him warm.  But I asked if he could take his blanket for comfort especially since Danny wouldn't be riding in the ambulance alongside him- but following along in the little blue car.  They agreed Tater's blanket would be a nice comfort for him.
(If Danny didn't follow in the blue car, he'd have no transportation home when they were all done.)

I stayed home with the other 6 kids.  Squdge waved out the window saying, "Bye Buddy.  Bye!  Bye!" and continued standing there several minutes after watching the firetruck, ambulance, little blue car, and other emergency vehicles drive away.

Squdge had a hard time going to sleep that night not knowing why his buddy Tater wasn't back yet.  We shared the following conversation three or four times:

"Buddy go way?" a big-eyed Squdge would ask me.

"Yes, your buddy went to the doctor."  I'd reply.

"Bench fall Buddy's foot?  Buddy owee?" 

"Yep, the bench hurt his foot.  Tater is going to doctor to get all better.  The doctor will take care of him."  I told him-- hopefully.

"Buddy need band-aid!"  Squdge would say excitedly and pull me towards the garage where the first-aid kit is kept.

"Well, your buddy needs a sort of big band-aid.  The doctors will make it better."

Then Squdge would play with Peach (who is often just a tagalong to the twins) until he'd think about his missing buddy and we'd start the conversation again.  The other four children fell asleep relatively quickly following the excitement.  But not Squdge and Peach.  And definitely not me.  I needed to know how my little guy was doing.

One hour after Danny arrived at the ER I tried to call him.  That was 9:15 p.m.  But his cellphone rang a few times and went to voicemail.  Maybe it was on vibrate and maybe the doctor was with them at the moment, I reasoned.

I called again at 9:45 p.m.  same thing.  I called at 10:15 p.m. reasoning it had been 2 full hours.  They must know something.

No answer.

10:45 p.m. the phone goes straight to voicemail.  The battery must have died.

11:15 p.m. I try again anyway and it also goes directly to voicemail.

11:45 p.m.  It's been 3 1/2 hours since they arrived at the ER.  Surely they must have been released from the ER by now, fallen asleep at the wheel on the way home, and died. 

I carried the sleeping babies to their beds and forced myself to tidy-up the living room. 

I stared out the front window pleading to the heavens to bring my baby home!  I prayed.  I paced.  I watched the clock. 

I played Scramble with Friends on my phone.  But no more friends were taking their turns.  It was late and I didn't have anyone to call.  I had called grandparents earlier to ask for their prayers on Tater's behalf.  But they were an hour ahead of me and since I had no news, I couldn't call them at this late hour.

It was midnight.  I had the house phone and my cellphone beside me.  I stared at them, willing them to ring.

I prayed.  I stared at the phones.  I looked out the window.  Nothing.  nothing.  and more nothing.

Then I decided I could live with the paranoid mother stigma and I called the hospital myself.  It was about 10 minutes after midnight. 

I said in one breath, "My 2 year old was brought into the ER by ambulance nearly four hours ago and I haven't heard anything.  I'm wondering if they were released or if they're still there."  Then I added, "My husband should be with him.  He followed the ambulance." 

She verified who she was talking with and started to explain that they were just giving Tater a procedural sedation so he could handle all the stitching they'd need to do. 

I asked her, "Does this mean he didn't break any toes?  Did they x-ray?" 

She told me she'd pull my husband out of the room and have him give me a call right back.  I asked her to tell him to call my cellphone instead of the house phone so the other kids wouldn't wake up.

And then I waited a few minutes.  12:15 a.m.  Then I pondered what "a call right back" meant in ER-speak.  12:25 a.m. Then I wondered if they couldn't make an outbound call to a cellphone from the hospital.

12:45 a.m. I wondered why Danny wouldn't at that point just call the house phone.  Surely he'd know I needed to know what was going on with my poor little guy!

But there was still no call.

to be continued...

Read part I here
Part III here

"My baby! My baby!" was all I could force out. Part I

I was in the laundry room Sunday evening and heard Gabbers scream (not an uncommon sound).  Then I heard Tater scream and scream and SCREAM!  And I figured, Danny will take care of this since he's out there.  I continued to fold washcloths and towels. 

Then I thought I heard, "Nikki!"  Then I definitely heard Danny yell in a very commanding voice, "NICOLE!!!"

I came running out of the laundry room, "What?  What?!  What's the matter?"

Danny was holding Tater who had blood pouring off his foot and said, "I need a clean dry washcloth right now.  The bench fell on him and his toe is split down the middle."

I ran into the laundry and determined a cloth diaper (prefold) would be more absorbent than a washcloth and brought it back.  And then I almost fainted when I saw it.  I'm not a squeamish person.  But this was my 2 year old-- a baby.

I said, "Should I call 911?"

Danny said, "Yes."

Then I convinced my stubborn phone to dial the 3 simple digits.

"911 What's your emergency?"

That's when I started to go into shock.  "My baby!  My baby!" was all I could force out.  My arms and legs were growing weak.

"Ma'am!  Is your baby breathing?" the 911 dispatcher said.

"My baby, yes, YES he's breathing but he's bleeding very badly."

"Okay let's start with your address." 

I gave him my address. 

"And your phone number that you're calling from in case we get disconnected."

I gave him my phone number. 

Danny was saying to me at the same time, "Sit down before you faint!  Sit on the couch!"

The dispatcher continued, "Ma'am, tell me what happened to your baby."

"Well, actually he's 2.  The dining table bench fell on his foot and it looks like one of his toes split down the middle," I told him.

Danny put Tater on my lap and had me hold the cloth diaper around his foot and toes.  Tater was screaming and reaching for his foot.

In between the dispatcher reassuring me that help was on the way, I reassured Tater and explained to the other children that we needed them to be calm and good helpers right now and that some people were on their way to help him.  I asked Gabbers to bring his blanket.

I told the dispatcher that our porch light was burned out but my husband would be out front to flag them down.

Around this time, Tater stopped screaming and curled into a ball.  But he was shaking.  or I was.  Or we both were.

The dispatcher kept me on the phone as the cops arrived first.  The dispatcher said, "Someone should be there by now.  Do you see anyone?"

"Umm, yeah, but I think they're cops.  They have guns."

"Okay," said the dispatcher, "I'll stay on the phone with you until the fire department or the paramedics arrive."

"The fire department?  Why are they coming?"  I asked.

"We dispatched them all when you called to make sure we could help with whatever emergency you had," he said as the firetruck with flashing lights showed up.  But no siren.  At least not that I remember. 

I said, "They're here.  Some firemen are in my house."

And we ended our call.

It was maybe 3 minutes later when the ambulance arrived.  They told me their names and spoke calmly to me and Tater.

I told them I couldn't look.  They purposely blocked my view as they examined it with a flashlight and conferred with each other "It looks like a Partial-Avulsion of the smallest toe" and "this toe too." 

They reassured me I did the right thing and that the cloth diaper was a good call.  They said they probably wouldn't remove it and would let the ER doctor handle that in case parts of the area had started to coagulate.

The paramedics asked if we wanted to take Tater to the emergency room or send him by ambulance.  Since I can't drive and someone needed to stay with the kids, we couldn't figure out how Danny could take him to the emergency room and still apply pressure the whole time.

So we sent him by ambulance.  alone.

to be continued...

 read part II here

read part III here

I want to know where you live next- because I'm going to buy stock in the ER

Danny's co-worker said that to him (Danny) before he left work.

You see, I had called his work, asked for Danny and they said, "Is this his wife?"  Since the events spoken of in the last post and continuing multiple fainting spells daily, his office has been keenly aware of my calls and the possibility of him leaving at a moment's notice.

"Yes, this is his wife, but it's not MY emergency."

Hammy had somehow knocked the box of laundry detergent on the floor.  And somehow in the process got it in his eyes and rubbed it in good.  Then he proceeded to scream.

I called the clinic while I flushed Hammy's eyes with cool water.  The warning on the side of the box of detergent said, "Flush with water and call your physician."

The nurse said, "Take him to the ER."

I said, "Uhh, really?  I don't really want to go to the ER.  I'm flushing his eyes with water."

I instructed Hammy to continue to flush his eyes after I had been doing it for him 4 or 5 minutes.

The nurse from the clinic replied,

"He might have a chemical burn.  You should take him right away."

So Danny rushed home and took Hammy to the ER.  By then we had flushed his eyes for at least 10 minutes. 

The ER doc said we did good because there was no sign of harm or damage.  *phew*  Hammy confessed in the ER that he was scooping up the detergent in his hands to put back in box and decided to blow it in.  That's when it got in his eyes.

That was the second ER visit in less than a week.  But you know what "they" say?  These things happen in threes.

to be continued...

If you give a Mom some blogging time...

I tried to blog last week.  And I tried to blog today.  But I had to change a poopy diaper first. 
Then when I washed my hands and hunted down a dish towel I was reminded that I needed to fold a mountain of laundry. 

I decided on closing the laundry room door and getting a snack instead.  The kumquat that makes my stomach gurgle was demanding some protein. 

I reheated the leftover steak from the fridge, plopped the baby in her high chair with some peanut butter and Cheerios, answered a few phone calls and listened to voice mails. 

Then I thought about flossing my teeth because I just had steak.  Then I thought if I'm going to go in the bathroom and floss my teeth, I may as well brush them too.  And hey, I need a shower before my OB appointment. 

Then I rememebered that Danny will be home a little earlier than I need to leave for my appointment so I can shower.  So knowing I had some time (bwahaha), I sat down at the computer and attempted to blog.  That's when a twin came in crying because his buddy smashed his finger and I realized being in close proximity to him, I have to change another diaper.

I'm not gaining many popularity points.

I think I may have secured the title of Meanest Mom of the Year. 

We just started a new points system with the kids.  It's very much like the Mommy Store but they can redeem points daily.  Their only limitation is they can only pick one goody/treat per day.  No saving up 50 points and buying five candy canes to snork down at once.

For example:

Today the goodies available to buy are Cherry Cordial Cookies and candy canes.  Most of the kids picked a candy cane.  But since I had two green apple Tootsie pops left, I offered the twins that option.  They happily chose "pop-pops."

picture here

Of course they would NOT stay in their chairs at the table.  High chairs aren't even an option anymore-- they can escape in less than 30 seconds from them.

I should also add, it's FREEZING outside.  So sitting on the porch licking a lollipop is not an option either.

I reminded them about twelve times to sit at the table with their lollipops.

Then I told them, "If you don't stay at the table I will have to take away your lollipop." 

In about 90 seconds there was lollipop stickiness on my curtains, digital grand piano, lightswitches, doorknobs and the bottom of the television (which was off so I don't know why it lured them). 

I had to keep my word.  We don't issue threats unless we're willing to follow through.

I took the lollipops.  I knew full well that if I threw them in the kitchen trash they'd dig them right back out.  So I marched outside to the curb, where the big black garbage can is waiting for the garbage man, with twins trailing closely behind, and tossed them in. 

Squdge threw himself down in the middle of the road a helpless Pop-Pop-less heap.

The crying didn't cease for about 10 minutes.  The pouting much longer.  Gabbers just watched in disbelief.  The only reason they did stop crying was because I put Word World on so I could stuff workboxes and teach a long division lesson.

Homeschooling in real life with 7 kids under 9 1/2

Yesterday at church when I was sitting in the nursery with Squdge, Tater, and Peach, another mother asked me how I homeschool with little ones in the home. 

I had to answer her honestly, "That is the hardest part of homeschooling:  What do I do with the toddlers and baby while I teach the older kids?"

Well, this is just a small sample of what may happen when I leave one of the school-aged children in charge of twins while I teach the other two school-aged children.

What isn't included in the picture of the four pack of yogurt (those are 6 oz. each by the way) is the yogurt covered table and splotches on the floor from the fridge to the table, Cheerios strewn from one end of the living room to the other, the turned over play kitchen, the half-dozen paper airplanes, the ripped off fridge lock, and two totally yogurt coated two year old twins (say that three times fast).

The baby escaped unscathed.

A few trips: Lunch, eyes, and overseas

Today we are going on a lunchtime playdate at a secluded park on the way to town.  It's a relatively short van trip there-- like 15 minutes.  With just a little prep of sandwich making and flavor-blasted goldfish bagging whilst 7 happy children bounce around with glee (yeah!  Goldfish!  Friends!) we will have the makings of a fun memory-filled afternoon.

Next week Danny turns 35.  I had the plannings in my head of a surprise get-together with friends.  But he's going on a trip instead.  He got pre-approved for laser eye surgery.  So it's his turn to be gone for 2 weeks.  His trip is about 5 1/2 hours by car.

Because we recently enrolled the oldest three kids in a charter program that teaches them Science, History, Art, and Music twice a week (and we homeschool the rest), we won't be going with Danny to his prep appointments, surgery, and post-op appointments.

We considered having him come home in-between some of the appointments-- but it's a 5 1/2 hour drive and gas prices are through the roof.  We'll be making nightly calls to catch up with him.

And the long trip.  Sometime between December and April, Danny will most likely be taking a very long trip.  We knew in the back of our minds that this could be a possibility being Air Force and all, but I hoped it would never happen.  And for this trip he'll be gone 6 months to a year.  This time the travel will be by airplane.  

We'll learn how use Skype to keep up with him and so he can see how much his babies grow while he's gone defending our freedom and serving our country.

So help me, if you don't get better...

Darn you broken pinky toe.  You're slowing me down!  I have stuff to do!