Thumb Sucking

Sucha thbeautifulumberr l sucker from birth. It started when she was about 10 days old. We've been working on not sucking for quite some time. She's gotten really good about not sucking during the day but night time and bed time have remained a struggle. We've been talking about thumb sucking even more lately because of this:

It's a beautiful toothless grin with the potential of becoming beaver-esque as her adult teeth grow in.
 I've been telling her that we would look at pictures of what happens to kids teeth when they suck their thumb. Well, tonight we finally got around to it. I led off with this gem:

In retrospect, probably not the best choice. It really freaked her out. She immediately started tearing up. At one point I had her on my lap while she did the sobbing-gasping kind of cry. She was really worried because sometimes she sucks her thumb in her sleep and she was afraid she'd turn into a monster. In what seems like a flash of brilliance, I likened thumb sucking to potty training. I reminded her that when she first started learning to use a toilet she still had to wear a diaper at night. But when she got good at using the potty during the day her body remembered at night not to pee. I also had to reassure her that occasional
sucking while she was sleeping would not cause her to have a hideous smile.
We talked about if she would do her part: not suck her thumb, I would do my part: make sure she had braces if she needed them. Still she was pretty worried about having crazy monster teeth - creepy teeth.
Me, being the loving, sensitive, kind mother that I am, had to try really hard not to laugh. It's so ridiculous, it's funny. But I did feel bad for her - even as I bit through my own tongue. She's tired which makes everything seen worse.
I have to say though, when I went in to check on her tonight, after she was asleep, not only is she not sucking her thumb but she's actually laying on her hand. She really doesn't want to look like a monster!

Such a beautiful girl- inside and out!

Driving the smart bus

A funny thing about driving the carpool for D and his friends is the conversations I sometimes get to hear.  They are normal boys so often the conversations are silly or obnoxious or deal with body functions.  But sometimes they talk about the craziest things.
Today for example they were figuring out how much vacation time they would have if the school day was 7.5 hours instead of 6.3.  This involved figuring out how many hours there are in a typical school year, or 6.3 hours x 180 days.  They each figured it out in their heads but since they had different answers I finally pulled out my phone and let them use the calculator.
Once they figured out the hours in a school year (1134) then they divided that by 7.5 to find out how many days it would take (151.2) to reach the needed hours.  Then they divided that by 6 (because they'd go to school on Saturday) to find out how many weeks it would take (25.2) to finish school.  Of course they then had to subtract 25.2 from 52 so they would know how much vacation time they would get (26.8).  Which was of course the whole point of this exercise -- to discover how much more vacation time they could have if they went to school longer and more days in a week.
Don't be too surprised if a petition shows up at the legislature next spring!

So proud of this kid!

What a week! Or Two! Going on Three Now!

It has been a bit crazy around here as of late.  It started 2 weeks ago with vomiting.  Anything that starts with vomiting is not a good story.  A was struck down first.  She was such a trooper though.  Seriously, that girl is TOUGH.  She was playing at the table and would feel sick.  She'd stop and be sick in her barf-bowl then go right back to playing like nothing happened.  Like I said, tough.
Roy was next and being the tough guy he is, he was pretty sure he would die.  Seriously, the groaning and moping.  Good thing he doesn't get sick very often!  From there it made the rounds through the family over the course of the week.  One great round of misery.
By Wednesday, we thought we were done.  K hadn't been sick and neither had C which is a little like waiting for someone to shoot you.  You're pretty sure they're going to shoot but it hasn't happened yet and maybe it won't but if it does its going to be awful but you're starting to hope and. . .
Also, D had been feeling poorly on Saturday before A got sick so we were just figuring he'd managed to avoid the vomiting but had already been sick.
So we made it though the week.  Everyone went to school on Wednesday and Thursday.  We were breathing a sigh of relief- checked that off our list of annual experiences when Friday morning at 2 a.m. D came in my room to tell me he'd just been sick.  Swell.  Not done.
So we did the sick day Friday only, D just kept being sick.  For everyone else it lasted a few hours before dissolving into a stupor of sleepy blechness.  Not for D.  He was miserable.  And he was making me miserable too with the addition of life threateningly bad flatulence.  I was pretty sure something inside him had died and was coming out though the air.  C and I opened all the windows, turned out the blower for the furnace and locked ourselves in the toyroom downstairs.  I only hoped D would make it out alive!
By Saturday morning D seemed to be feeling better but was still weak.  He lounged around all morning.  It was a sunny day.  Roy and I decided the kids needed to go to a park so we loaded them up.  By the time D was loading, he was doubled over holding his right side and complaining of his stomach hurting. I grabbed his insurance cards just in case.  At the park, I called the 24-hour nurse hotline to speak to a nurse.  I didn't want to be that mom, you know, the one who rushes her kid to the ER for twinges.  But I didn't want to be the other that mom, you know, the one who doesn't take her kid to the ER when he's having serious medical trouble.  It would be so great if kids came with a little meter on their chests with an arrow that points to the level of intervention needed.

Anyway, since there's no meter Roy and I discussed it and decided to take D to the ER.
Once there, my job became: keep D from panicking and don't tell him the remedy for appendicitis.  His symptoms were all classic appendicitis so I was pretty sure we were either dealing with that or bad gas pains.  After an ultrasound the consensus was probably appendicitis but the next step was a blood test and transfer to a children's hospital with access to pediatric surgeons. The DR gave D an anti-anxiety medicine which made my number one job easier.  Roy came to the ER after taking care of things at home and started talking about surgery which made my number two job harder.  Luckily the anti-anxiety med made it so D didn't really care.  He'd had pain meds earlier and now life was to be lived on a cloud!
To make a long story long, D transfered to the hospital and I stayed the night on a super-uncomfortable couch/bed.  Neither of us slept well and the morning brought sunshine and surgery.
Roy and I were together while D was in surgery.  Afterwards we stayed with him until he was feeling better and ready for a nap.  Then we came home and had dinner with the kids before taking everyone down to visit.  Turns out while we were gone, D had been visited by a clown who left some fun toys behind and our home teachers who left a fun book.
D was a trooper and has recovered beautifully.  His surgery was laparoscopic so his biggest complaints have been belly-button pain where the DRs put the camera in and shoulder pain which is apparently normal and has to do with nerve irritation in his abdomen. He spent another night in the hospital (by himself - mama gotta sleep! ) and came home Monday morning after proving he would eat and drink enough to sustain life without his IV.
On the way home from the hospital, K threw up in the van.  This just leaves C-baby.  It's been a week since anyone puked though.  So maybe there's hope?  Unfortunately, C has a terrible miserable cold that involves much oozing of the eyes and nose, fever, and a lovely cough.  Life continues to be a party up in here!
They say March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. Please oh please!!!

C is 24 months

This guy turned 2.  Two-years-old!  Hard to believe and yet so easy to believe.  He's gotten so big and so able lately.
He is busy busy busy.  He runs from here to there and up and down and over and under and back and forth and hither and yon and so forth.
C loves trucks, cars and trains.  He can almost always be found playing with one or multiple vehicle.

He loves to be outside.   If the kids are outside you can bed C is too.  He's got his little truck to ride on and push around while he's out there.

Or he likes to jump on the trampoline or play in the sandbox with the big dump trucks.  He likes to take baths or showers but almost never alone.

He almost always showers with K and A.  The other day I made D wear his swimsuit and take a shower just so I could get C clean!

He also climbs everything! He gets into everything! There is no place too high, no place too safe for C to reach it.
So what better way to celebrate than with some birthday waffles (with sprinkles) in the morning

and a dirt cake after dinner?

We opened presents, which he's finally gotten the hang of opening and has decided it is AWESOME.  Let's see, he got a truck and a truck and a car (sensing a theme?) and a toy that shoots balls into the air.  (sorry about the blur -- he's a moving target!)

C is such a delightful little boy.  He's almost always happy.  He has some of the best expressions and sweetest words.  Sometimes he is so snuggly and will climb up on my lap and fall asleep while other times he can't be tied down.  He is full of love and can frequently be heard saying, "Huggie?" right before he runs into you with his arms open wide.  I feel so lucky to be his mom.  I excited to see the man he grows into but hope he won't grow too fast.  Oh, too late, he already is!