This Strep Throat or the Cure Might Be the End of Me

I awoke this morning with a very low-grade fever and continuation of the sore throat that's been plaguing me since Monday. I couldn't deny that I felt like garbage. It was supposed to be a full day - Isaac's 18-month checkup at 10:00, back home for lunch and naps, and a doctor consult for me at 2:45, followed by Bible study at our house tonight after dinner. Yeah, no way.

I canceled Isaac's checkup as soon as the doctor's office opened. About twenty minutes later, as the kids ate breakfast, I checked my throat and saw the telltale signs of strep throat. Great. Thankfully, our doctor's office offers walk-in visits all morning so we loaded up after breakfast and arrived at, you guessed it, 10:00 a.m. The irony of the situation is not lost on me. But hey, we get to do this again on Monday morning to make up Isaac's visit so that's a bonus, right?

The doctor checked me, blah blah blah, and yes I have strep throat. I don't get sick often, but when I do, there's a better than average chance that it will be strep. So far, this was all kind of routine for me. Plus it was a new doctor, and she was gaga over my adorable kids which is always nice. Still, they saw me sitting on the examining table as an open invitation to climb up and lie down and almost fall off the sides amidst gales of laughter, and the whole visit was frankly exhausting. Especially since my main momma tool, MY VOICE, was bringing its C game at best.

Doc called in a prescription for amoxicillin and we headed to the pharmacy. Not before I lingered a few minutes to straighten out a minor blood work issue from earlier in the week because parade. of. incompetence. somewhere in our local lab system. Sweet people, but Lord have mercy. ANYWAY, I'm only sharing this to fully enlighten you as to the joyous nature of my day.

Ok, so pharmacy. Typically, the drive from doc to pharmacy is ample time to dispense a prescription. But not today, no, the good pharmacist techs at Weis Market were positively slammed. I waited in line, took Mikayla to the potty, came back and waited some more, and still when it was my turn at the window I was told it would be a few more minutes.

Grand. Because an aisle full of soap, hair dye boxes, Hello Kitty hairbrushes, and a full display of vitamin bottles are NOT A TEMPTATION to my children AT ALL. And it's not like I need this medication because I'M SICK and therefore not quite maximizing my mothering potential at the moment.

We waited. And we waited. And then the kindly pharmacist lady called me up to show me a giant bottle full of horse pills that was, apparently, my antibiotic. 

I'm sorry, what? My throat is so inflamed and swollen that I can barely swallow nothing, and you want me to down an uncoated tablet the size of my thumb?

The main pharmacist, when consulted, looked at me like I was a little slow, and said, "You can cut them in half." (The implied completion of his thought: duh, you moronic girl.)

Oh right, because if there's anything better than a thumb-sized sticky tablet when you have strep throat, it's one slightly shorter but with corners. Why didn't I think of that?

So. While my son destroyed an entire bottom shelf display of bar soap and my daughter casually leafed through an adult glamour magazine, I phoned my doctor's office to see about tweaking the prescription for a smaller form or dosage, and was told she would get my message in, oh, an hour when she was done seeing patients for the morning. I barely held back from asking the receptionist if she would like me to send photos of the pharmacy when my children were finished waiting there for the next hour.

Needless to say, we headed home. The pharmacy tech who helped me originally was very sweet, and offered to call me when my meds were ready. I think she could tell my sanity was hanging by its last thread, which speaks to her incredible intuition because my annoyance and exhaustion were NOT AT ALL obvious.

What's also obvious is that we survived the ordeal, and that the kids are successfully down for naps because I've just had the opportunity to share all this fun with you. It's these moments when I need a gigantic perspective shift, and remind myself that while this might be an example of sharing in the suffering of Christ in order to be made more like Him, this is also NOTHING compared to the suffering of Christ, and is also not worthy to be compared to the glory that will be revealed in us through Him.

Which will be pretty incredibly glorious, if I think back over my lifetime of various sufferings.

Thanks be to God for His sustaining grace, and for designing toddlers to require two hour naps.

Library Books and Failed Photo Ops

Full disclosure: This is one of those Pinterest Mom moments for me, where I dress my kids in coordinating fall outfits and take them on an educational outing. And it's hilarious that I just made it sound like this happens, like, more than once. What I'm saying is, don't be fooled. This is on the blog because it is momentous, not because it is routine. Ok, I feel better now knowing that YOU know that I know I am not super mom.

Moving right along. Today, the kids and I went to visit Joel at work "with all the BOOKS!!" Mikayla is certain there are at least ten books at the library. That girl is good with estimating. We started planning this two days ago, and I still managed not to bake the banana bread that I wanted to take for his coworkers. I totally want to be That Wife but alas, see above, not super mom. Life happens.

What I DID manage was getting the kids dressed all in brown and orange, Mikayla in her fancy embroidered jeans that I usually avoid like the plague because isn't the point of jeans that EVERYTHING matches them? Why would you get into a situation where you have to color and style coordinate with your jeans?? Isaac wore this totally handsome brown and orange striped shirt with that fake long-sleeve layer look going on. Oh man. Between that, shorts, and his preppy sandals, the college guys on campus had nothing on my little dude.

I'm bragging because my daughter has been dressing herself lately and has little regard for concepts like a color wheel and that you're not supposed to mix stripes with a bold fruit print. And Isaac...it's a good day when he simply remains dressed. So matching themselves and each other? I deserve my fifteen minutes for this, ok?

Did I mention I also wore a cute brown shirt?

In my secret heart of hearts, I was hoping that somebody would notice how fantastic we all looked together and insist on taking a photo of us for the university website. Realistic dreams, guys, all the way.

This was our first official checking-books-out library trip as a family. (Yeah, that not-super-mom thing again. My kids have never had library books before. We've done story time though, if that counts.) And can I tell you how cool it was to have Dadda as our librarian? He showed us where the children's books were, recommended a few, and then took us down the secret back stairs to where he showed us how he checks them out with the "Super Computer!" as Mikayla proclaimed. (Thank you, Super Why!)

They helped Dadda run them through that magic thing that makes the alarm not go off - not that we needed to. We were ushered out a secret back door because I'm married to one of the top bananas, or because we had already caused enough disturbance out in the open. I can never tell if we are special or a liability.

Isaac was a little behind; they were already bagging books when he decided to jump in.

Putting all our books into the bag, with Sister Joanne's help.

And of course there were plenty of book carts, the perfect size and height for tiny hineys to sit on.

I never did get that Pinterest-perfect shot of the kids and me gloriously and patiently reading a new library book together while sunlight streamed in through the tall library windows.  Probably because that never actually happened. You know what matters more, though? I got to see, in real life, my children delighting in books, greeting friends and strangers with smiles and open hearts, and generally bringing lots of sunshine to our little learning opportunity. I'm thankful sometimes when the photo ops don't pan out, and we are stuck with just plain old life. It's good to view the world and especially the ones we love through our own eyes, capturing the moments in our hearts instead of through a lens.

I'll take a blurry shot of my daughter not looking at the camera and Isaac missing because he ran at the last minute, as a reminder that they are too full of life to stay still and pose just right. They are just right the way they are.

Thanks, Dadda, for making our first library visit a memorable one!

The Epic Tale of a Sleepless Night

I'm not sure whether this is a story about my sainthood as a mother, or about my daughter's crazy love for her special blanket. You decide.

It all started with Mikayla having an accident in her bed around 12:30. Quite unusual, so it's understandable I suppose that it sent her into hysterics. We had the loud, dramatic sobs and huge crocodile tears the entire time I was stripping her and the bed of pee-soaked clothing.

Which, have you ever tried to change a fitted sheet in the dark? Talk about an exercise in kinesthetic skills and spatial visualization. Throw in a wailing toddler who is awake after midnight, and you've got one seemingly never-ending experience on your hands.

Back to Mikayla, though. Poor girl! She was simply clinging onto me and would not stop crying. She usually climbs into her bed eagerly when she's tired, snuggling down under her....uh oh. That would be the problem. In the heap of wet laundry were her Special Blanket and her animal friend pillow. And she does. not. sleep. without Special Blanket. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, end of story.

What's a momma to do??

Well, I'll tell you what this Momma *attempted*:

1. Mikayla begged to sleep in a "different bed" instead of getting back into hers. That narrows it down to precisely momma's bed. I took her in to lie down with me because in the past, she has quickly realized that it isn't as comfy as her own bed, and it doesn't last too long. This time, she laid directly on top of me and failed to find a comfortable position for her head for about eight minutes. That is a really long time when it is approaching 1 a.m.

2. Dadda told her that Momma would take her back to her bed. Thaaaaaanks, nothing like being volun-told to get back out of your bed in the middle of the night. To his credit, this was probably the more rational of our options, given how well the sleep was going in our room. Of course, putting her into her own bed meant a different blanket and a different pillow, both of which she hated. I offered to lie down with her and sing some songs. Tentative agreement. Win!

3. Mikayla's breathing heavily, three songs in. Momma gingerly arises, employing all her best don't-wake-the-baby moves. She reaches the foot of the bed and....Mikayla bolts from her pillow to wrapping her arms around Momma's waist, sobbing once more. Ok.

4. Negotiation. I told Mikayla that I would go wash her special blanket, and that I would bring it to her when it was all clean and dry. The gamble here was obviously that she would fall asleep while it was being laundered, and I'd give it back in the morning. Fifteen minutes of silence suggested that it had worked. I was still lying awake, congratulating myself on my sheer brilliance, when I heard it echo through the exhausted ruins of my sanity. The squeak and creak of a bedroom door opening across the hall. I think we attempted more lying down and singing at this point but I'm honestly not sure. Somewhere in here I moved the laundry over to the dryer.

5. Mikayla asked to sleep on the couch. This has never remotely been on the radar before, so I don't know where she came up with this gem. Because it was now after 1:30 a.m., Momma was pretty much doing whatever results in the least amount of loudness. Sure, let's hit the couch. I set her up, and I headed back to bed to wallow in my sleeplessness. Fifteen minutes later I went to check the dryer because please, Lord, somehow let just the blanket be dry enough. (Nope.) I found Mikayla collecting books to "read" while she lay on the couch in the dark. Sigh. I've learned enough about sleep hygiene to know that when sleep is going this poorly, it's best to shift gears and then try again maybe 15-20 minutes later. So, grateful for our living room's dimmer switch, we turned on some low light and read a few short books.

6. When I checked the dryer again, the blanket was....ok, it was damp. But I was so stinking tired. Mikayla was just happy to feel the soft minky fabric between her fingers again that she was willing to sleep with it a little wet. Done. I put her in bed with her blanket over her, and I'm telling you that girl kissed me goodnight, told me she loved me, and didn't make another peep. 2:00 a.m. She hung in there through an entire wash and dry cycle. That is some determined blanket-love, people.


So, what do you think? The tragic tale of a little girl who was torn from her security blanket due to unforeseeable misfortune, and was inconsolable until its safe return? Or the heroic saga of a mother determined to overcome horrific toddler devastation, with the remains of her mental stability hanging in the balance?

Either way, it's a coffee morning for sure. I am so grateful that this happens as rarely as it does around here!

Isaac's 18 Months Old!

Isaac is 18 months old, as of Sunday. He's such a big boy! Since I blog in lieu of doing an actual baby book (I bailed out pretty quickly on that one, to avoid that whole future-sibling envy of the firstborn's gorgeous baby book, followed by a bunch of photos shoved haphazardly into a notebook as you later realize motherhood is more about chasing children than memorializing them)...how about a few updates?

Isaac is a climber. Onto chairs, up the stairs, into the car. Anything he can reach is fair game! He also loves remotes and phones, which he uses interchangeably to control the TV and talk to Papa (or Pop Pop, depending on the day and his enunciation). "Haa-oooooo, pa pa!"

He's got words, too. Mama, Dadda, Layla, ME!, God, yes, please, all done, no, cracker, cookie, cup, hi/hey, bye, Mema (Jamma), Papa, Pop pop, Amy, Becca...I guess he basically knows the names to all his favorite things and people! (He also definitely knows the word "pee-pee", but I didn't know if I should include that for the sake of decorum?) He is sharpening up on his animal sounds. He used to tell me that a cow says both "moo" and "bah", but I attribute that to normal development. He was perhaps a little young for the rapid set-switching. Now, he easily runs through cow, sheep, dog, cat, duck, and horse. He also knows his body parts, but gets the biggest kick out of pointing at your nose when you ask where his nose is. He gets that adorable mischievous smile on his face, as though he's pulling one over on you.

Isaac is his sister's biggest fan. He imitates her at every opportunity, which is nice when it comes to using dishes and silverware at the table. He sometimes asks to sit on the potty, and assumes that the whole point of it is to sit still for 2-3 seconds, and then rub a shard of toilet paper on his bum. He also attempts to rub bits of toilet paper on other people's bums at times. Learning the concepts, people, learning the concepts.

Speaking of imitation, today Mikayla took off toward the stairs waving a toy and singing a little song. Isaac motored after her, waving his hand in similar fashion and making the same sing-songy sounds. So adorable! As I turned the corner myself, I watched Mikayla pivot with all her two-year-old grace and scoot down the stairs. Isaac, on the other hand, ran smack into an empty diaper pail and fell clumsily on his hiney. Quite the epitome of little brother trying to keep up with big sister, and it gave me such a chuckle!

We spent the last week teething. And by "we", I mean Isaac spent the week or more in abject misery and did his best to project his pain onto the rest of us as well. Poor kid. I am pleased to report that his first molar broke through yesterday! Well, I felt the edge of it today on his gum, whereas he has refused to let me anywhere near his mouth or gums for the past few weeks. I'm assuming that means it erupted yesterday or this morning. I can hardly wait for the contralateral molar to catch up.

Isaac eats meat and carbs with gusto. He is choosy about his vegetables, preferring the green ones. He is on the fence with regard to salad, which he uses more as a vehicle for salad dressing. He licks it off and promptly double-dips his spinach leaf back into his tiny puddle of creamy french. Isaac has rejected all fruits not pureed and in a pouch, up until the past week when he FINALLY embraced watermelon! I suspect he has texture issues.

He had his first haircut awhile back and is overdue for another. The mullet is filling in a bit, and his hair is growing out over his ears again. Fortunately, he's so stinkin' handsome that the ladies hardly notice the hair issues. Speaking of ladies, he knows how to give a handshake, and he knows what to do with a lady's hand: he ducks his face down and plants a big smacker on the back of it. I have seen at least two church ladies melt into a big puddle of baby love over this trick in the past few weeks.

He still sleeps like a dream, 7:30pm until the neighborhood of 7:00 a.m., and a two-hour-ish nap from 12-2. Except when he's teething, but we're hoping for a return to normalcy in the next few days.

Isaac's personality is so sweet and mellow, and yet also decidedly silly. He has a fearless streak that'll get us into trouble sooner than later. He is my little snuggle muffin all the way.

I love you, son, my precious miracle baby, and a sign of the Lord's bounteous goodness to us. My heart overflows at the sweetness of this last year and a half of enjoying you and your sister together.

Soli deo gloria!

Time Outs For Everyone!

Dinner was in the oven - a delicious-smelling chicken scampi recipe just begging for the rice that I *actually* remembered to start on time, for once in my life. Mikayla and Isaac had been looking at books for awhile, and playing Doctor, which constitutes them taking turns lying across two toddler chairs while the other gives them a "shot" using whatever toy happens to be nearby. Mikayla gave Isaac a shot today alternately using a diaper cover, a book, and a necklace. When it's Isaac's turn to lie down,  he sort of bends over the chairs and puts his head down, looking for all the world like he's assuming the position for corporal punishment.

But this isn't about that.

Mikayla and Isaac got bored with their repertoire of activities, so they approached me carrying all of the DVDs. She bombarded me with the repeated whiny, "Can we watch this one before dee-ner? Can we watch this one please?" I had told her no several times when it occurred to me that she was still whining, which is a disciplinable offense. 

I told Mikayla that if she kept whining, she would have to go in time-out. She asked, "What's time out?" I did not have my answer prepared ahead of time, but thinking quickly, I explained something to the effect that she would have to go sit by herself for a few minutes, not doing anything, and it would help her learn to obey.

She happily disappeared in the direction of the office. When I asked what she was doing, she said excitedly, "Can I go to time out in here?? Can I sit by myself in the office? Can I have time out now?"  Which, actually, yes, that is where the time-out chair will probably be when we use it. 

Moms, how did you introduce the concept of a time-out to your children? I clearly need a few pointers.

Alligators and a Future Blogger

This morning, I was getting ready for work when I heard the pitter patter of little feet and the telltale whimper that means Mikayla awoke before her time. She appeared in my doorway with fuzzy bed head and squinty eyes. "I want to push it. I want to push it!"

Umm....okay?

"Mikayla, what do you want to push?"

With increased agitation, "I want to push it!"

"Okay Mikayla, you may push it.....what do you want to push?"

"I want to push the alligator!"

"You bet, Mikayla. So...what alligator do you want to push?"

Without replying, she scurried off and disappeared back into her room. I heard her bedroom door close with its characteristic rattle and squeak, and then silence. I can only presume that she returned to bed or mourned for the next twenty-five minutes on our extreme lack of alligators.

Just now, I asked if she remembered what she said to me this morning. She didn't, so I reminded her about the whole alligator pushing thing. Without prompting, she told me that she dreamed about the alligator. I'm not sure whether she understands the concept of dreaming, or if the babysitter perhaps was talking to her about it earlier.

Either way...it was one for the journal.

Also, "the deal" was that if Mikayla let me finish this post without pushing all of the keyboard keys (particularly "caps lock" and "num lock", which glow green, and "delete", which for some reason holds great allure), she would be allowed to type a little something for you all. Folks, my daughter's blogging debut:

n v
          9kj

[Mikayla just spent several minutes lightly scuffling her fingers over the keyboard, no doubt in attempt to mimic her Momma's speedy, light-as-a-feather typing style. The above characters were the only ones to register. She then tried to push the "Publish" button with her finger as if this were the touch-screen phone she is used to navigating. Ahead of their time, these little ones are!]

And in closing, Mikayla would like to share the following silly face with her blog audience.

And a big smile to say "thank you for bearing with all my silliness!"

What a precious gift she is! Thank you, Lord, for my sweet girl.

Let's Make a Craft or a Mess, Whichever Comes First!

This morning, Mikayla wound her arms around her daddy's neck and tearfully told him, "I don't want you to go to work! I want you to stay and eat breakfast with me!"

What a little heartbreaker! I don't know how he made it out the door.

Because she missed her dadda, we (I) decided to make an "I love you" craft for Joel when he arrives home. My initial vision involved gluing pieces of pipe cleaner (which the kids LOVE to play with) onto paper in the shape of letters to read, "I love you!" That idea lasted all of two seconds, until I saw how incessantly Isaac grabbed at all of the pipe cleaners and how little interest Mikayla had in gluing them down accurately.

The immediately revised plan: Momma writes "I love you, dadda!" on the paper, and the kids glue pipe cleaner pieces wherever the heck they want to. Preferably on the paper, probably also on their heads. Also, the kids scribble with crayons to "decorate" the paper.

The reality: Momma writes on the paper, and glues the pipe cleaner pieces in the spots that Mikayla points to. Momma also glues some hearts on because that seems sweet. Mikayla scribbles on the card until she is bored two minutes later and asks for a different paper to draw on. Isaac scribbles on the card for only ten seconds, and proceeds to taste-test each crayon before throwing it emphatically to the ground. He then cries because the crayons are on the floor where he can no longer eat them.

Momma's takeaway lesson is to hold my plans and goals loosely with these little ones. What seems like a great, kid-friendly idea in my head often winds up way overshooting their abilities and interests. You preschool teachers out there are barely containing your laughter, I know. Aren't I, with my lofty expectations, so cute and naive?



The real kicker, though, is that you know when Joel walks in the door they are both going to take full credit for the "I love you" card. Fortunately Joel can still tell our handwriting apart, so he'll know I helped. And maybe he'll take it to work to keep on his desk for a bit, to remind him how much his little fan club loves their dadda, and how much his wife adores him for loving them back.