Aaarrrrr, Mateys!

We'd been suspecting something was wrong with Nick's eyes for awhile now. My dad mentioned something a year or so ago, he said he thought Nick had a lazy eye, but honestly I pretty much dismissed it, because I hadn't noticed anything.

It got worse this year though. The school nurse suggested we should see an optometrist. Nick announced he was "left-eyed" meaning he could see great out of his left eye, but his right eye was totally blurry. The he said he freaked out a bunch of kids at school one day when unbeknownst to him his right eye wandered off and was staring sideways.

Our vision insurance totally bites. I have the choice of overpaying at Target or Sears for all my family's vision needs. Fortunately for us though, we happen to be friends with a couple of great eye doctors and so while I had my own vision checked at Sears, I am thankful I know a couple of someones that I would have a lot more faith in to take care of my boy.

I'm glad I did too. Nick needs glasses, he also has to wear a patch over his good eye for several hours a day, and then if we are lucky he gets to have surgery to help correct his eyes. (something to look forward to!) The good news is the Dr. doesn't think he has a brain tumor, so you know, that's awesome.

Nick's being a good sport. He has a good attitude about it. (But he has a pretty good attitude about most things) He's glad we're dealing with this during the summer, so hopefully by the time school starts it won't be much of an issue. He's just upset they dilated his eyes, and his bad eye is so bad he can't read right now. Or even watch TV. He's walking around the house pretty blind right now. But he did let me color a pirate eye-patch over the bandage for a better photo-op.

I met an Apostle.

I shook hands with Elder Richard G. Scott last night.

I sat in an audience of hundreds and listened to him speak to us. He was funny and personable and inspired and inspiring.

When it was over, he stood by the door and let anyone who wanted to, shake his hand. Because he wanted to shake our hands and look into our eyes.

I shook the hand of an Apostle of The Lord Jesus Christ.

How Awesome is that?

The Lion King

I took the kids to see their very first Broadway Musical yesterday- The Lion King. The production of Beauty and the Beast we saw a few years ago technically doesn't count in my mind, because it was just a local production company and the fact that your ticket came with an all you can eat buffet dinner cheapens it a bit in my opinion.

So I took the kids to Gammage at ASU yesterday to see the Lion King. I was excited to take them, something I have always enjoyed is going to the theater and I love that the kids are getting old enough that I can start sharing things I love with them.

We almost didn't make it in time. After parking in the top level of the parking structure and walking the block to the theater, with only minutes left until showtime I couldn't find the tickets in my purse. I searched frantically for a minute or two, then decided they must not have made it back in my purse after I pulled them out for some reason on the way to the theater. I kicked off my shoes (more cute than practical) and ran barefoot back to the car. The police officer directing traffic laughed at me on the way back as she spied me running down the street with my tickets in one hand, and shoes in the other. But I made it with moments to spare. I barely had enough time to pause at the drinking fountain.

(On a side note, I have to mention that I thought it was really sweet how Nick would thank the police officers directing traffic as we walked passed them. They would smile big and beam down at him, and it made me proud to be his mother even though I admit he didn't get that from me. I am sure directing traffic is a pretty thankless job, and I am grateful that Nick, through his example, reminded me to show gratitude to those around us. I stopped to think for just a moment, that as we were running late as it was, the presence of those officers directing traffic probably made it possible that we were to even navigate all those cars and find a parking spot in time to see the show at all.- Thanks, Nick. You're a great kid)

Our seats were pretty crappy, second balcony, the far right side of the theater, but John and I weren't about to spend top dollar on something we weren't even sure the kids would enjoy. My advice to anyone would be to get a seat on the floor. The cast would come though the audience with their larger than life puppets, and up on the second balcony we could hear the audience gasping and ooh-ing and aah-ing, but we couldn't see what the commotion was about until the giant elephant lumbered up on stage, and I could only imagine the effect of the birds flying about over the heads of the people sitting down below.

I took the three oldest while John stayed home with Christopher. Zach is in a difficult position right now, not quite one of the bigger kids, but not quite a little kid either. He's closer in age to Madison than Christopher, and he goes to school all day with the bigger kids while Christopher stays home, but I think more often than not he fits better in the "little kid" category.

He was upset he got left behind when we went to see "A Christmas Carol" without him last December, so I promised to take him to see this. However, about halfway through the first act he was asking me "how much longer". He took two potty breaks and needed to go get a drink from the fountain twice before intermission. By intermission he was begging to go home. I was so happy we were on the far right side, so he wouldn't bother other people as he would need to get up and go out over and over and over again.

Despite all that he said he loved it. We all did, it was pretty awesome. The two older ones are begging me to take them to Wicked now. I promised Zach I would not be taking him.

Baby-sitters club

I'm loving this babysitting club thing I just became a part of. Not really like those books from my childhood, it's way, way better. It's not a job, it's freedom. Sure, I have to do my part, which is only to stay home 3 hours a week (Monday afternoons) and watch little kids for other moms who need a baby-sitter. I earn tickets- 1 per half hour, per child, which I can turn around and use whenever I need a sitter for Christopher. We start off with 30 tickets, and the idea is to try and maintain about 30. You should spend your tickets at about the same rate you use them. It's awesome. The best part is that it's totally guilt free- as long as I have tickets I can drop my kid off, walk away and do whatever I want without feeling I am taking advantage of somebody who might have better things to do with their time besides watch my kid while I go shopping, get my hair done, etc. I generally hate asking other people to watch my kids, but there have been times- Dr.'s appointments, volunteering at school, that I have desperately needed help and so would ask then, but I still felt bad about it. The good part about John's job is that when he is in town he can work from home and sometimes he can help me out, but he is supposed to be working, or on conference calls, and it's not all that easy or convenient for him either, which I feel bad about too.
But now, the guilt is all gone. It's liberating. I haven't used it a whole lot, only twice in two weeks so far, and that's ok, I'm not looking to dump my kid off on someone else all the time, just when I need to, or need to casually peruse a book store all by myself and regain a bit of my sanity. Also I seem to have picked a day and time that isn't in demand for a babysitter. Between just getting started, last Monday being a holiday, and yesterday, I've only babysat 2 little girls.

I don't know who the genius was that came up with this idea, but boy am I ever grateful that she had the idea, and it filtered down to my neck of the woods, and I have a friend motivated enough to organize it in my neighborhood.

Just a side note- a friend of mine was telling me her husband was looking at the tickets and was like "I could totally make counterfeit tickets and sell them to the moms at church!"- which of course totally defeats the guilt-free, do your part, fair trade of service idea.

Another side note- you'd think I would be able to keep my two blogs separate, being as one is about FOOD and the other one ANY OTHER RANDOM THING THAT POPS INTO MY BRAIN, but somehow I still manage to get them mixed up and try to post things (like this post for instance) to the wrong blog. Duh.

random Thanksgiving things

It was a good Thanksgiving this year. It always is no matter how we spend it, but I just thought I'd say that. This year it was just us at home. No guests, no traveling. Last year when it was just gonna be the six of us I managed to talk John into going to Disneyland. That was a lot of fun. They have the place all decked out for Christmas and I mean totally, and it's amazing and fun. I didn't want to crash Thanksgiving at John's Aunt and Uncle's house, because that would be rude to just invite ourselves,(they live only a few minutes away from Disneyland) so I came up with the fabulous plan of just having turkey sandwiches on the beach. Maybe some chips. And root beer. I thought it would be memorable and fun and the kids would get a kick out of it. John's aunt Vicky wouldn't hear of it. We had a perfectly lovely traditional dinner at their house. They've always been too good to us.

This year John isn't up to all that walking that comes with Disneyland so we stayed home. I told him that we could just get a wheelchair then we wouldn't have to stand in line. He said no. Drat. So we stayed home and I cooked dinner and we watched the Macy's parade and had a good time.

The kids had never heard of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade before. (we're not huge parade people. My goal is to make it to the Gilbert days parade, but I think I just missed that one again) I spent the whole time explaining things to the kids.

"It's a very famous parade. They've been doing it for forever. Millions of people from all over the country watch it on TV every year."
"I bet people from all over the world watch it!"
"Uh, no, Thanksgiving, is just an American thing."
"It is?"

"ooh, kids, the Rockette's are gonna perform next!"
"Rockets? There's gonna be rockets?"
"No Rock-ette's. They're famous dancers that have been around for like 75 years.- See?"
"75 years huh? They don't look that old. Why are their skirts so short? Aren't they cold?"

"Mom look! It's Norton!!"
"Norton?"
"Yeah, you know, Norton the elephant, Norton Sees a Who? "

"Mom look! It's Hermit!"
"Who?"
"Hermit!"
"Who?"
"Hermit!"
"Who?" (I could see the big green frog coming up, I was just having fun with her )
"Hermit!"
"You mean Kermit the Frog? Kermit with a K?"
"I thought Kermit was spelled with a C."

Some things I am grateful for- I am grateful that John doesn't expect me to get up before the sun to start dinner. I think I would hate Thanksgiving if I had to do that. I am grateful that if dinner doesn't get on the table until four or five or heaven forbid, six pm nobody would hold that against me. I am thankful that even though my oven light went out on me and we had to use a flashlight to see if the red thingy popped up that at least I didn't set the oven on fire this year. I am grateful that even though I don't think my orange rolls didn't turn out as good as I had hoped and I refuse to blog about them on my food blog until after my mother comes down and we make them together at Christmastime and I can finally let John give them out to home teaching families that at least my kids think they are still fabulous. I am grateful that John made the kids help him do all the dishes and I didn't have to lift a finger. (In my opinion cleaning up is the worst part of the meal.) I am grateful that John went to the store for me and bought me a portable CD player so I could listen to Christmas music in my kitchen. I am grateful for my kids who were sweet and well behaved and got along and played with Christopher until they wanted to cry. I'm sure I could list a million more things, the things I regularly count when I count my blessings. A wonderful husband... beautiful kids... our health... our freedom... our faith... this world... John's job... our house... our friends... extended family... technology... my Heavenly Father... Jesus Christ... (in no particular order)

So much to be thankful for, I'm thankful to have a day just to be thankful.

My Miracle Baby

Tomorrow is Zach's birthday. He'll be six. He's my miracle baby. I've cried more tears over him, and had more prayers said in his behalf than all my other babies put together. At one point I even had doctors telling me I should just abort him and start all over again. There was a lot of risk involved, but oh how we feel so blessed and thankful to be celebrating six years with him.The trouble started in the beginning. I think I was only six weeks along or something. I don't think I had even told anyone besides John that I was pregnant before we found ourselves in the emergency room because I was bleeding. I had lost a baby before, and I had to get to the hospital to find out if everything was still okay. That night was awful, for so many reasons that I don't need to go into here, and it is probably on my top ten list of most terrible nights in my life, but it was probably a blessing in disguise. The real drama started the next week at a follow-up appointment at another ultrasound office across town. They were much nicer than the cranky technician at the hospital, I didn't even have to fill my bladder for them to get a good picture, and I'm sure if I had they would have let me fill it up the traditional way, other than the hospital's way. I even got to see the screen as they were doing it. The good news was there was still a heartbeat, but the bad news was is that it was twins, and only one baby was still alive. It's hard to describe what went through my head in those few seconds it took for the ultrasound lady to tell me that. For half a second I was having twins. Two babies. For half a second I had visions of double strollers and matching outfits, and twice the chaos. But just for half a second. How was (am?) I supposed to feel about losing something I never knew I had in the first place? "Congratulations! You've won the lottery! Oh wait, sorry. My Bad. That's a 6, not a 9. Sorry about that." In my journal that night I wrote- I'm sad. I want a miracle and the other one to be all right.6 years later, and I'll be honest, I still wonder what life would be like with two Zachs. I'm still a little sad when I think about it every once in awhile. But then I think of twice the mess, and twice the sleepless nights, and then I read my friend's blog and she talks about her twins, and even last week, as I was reading it and what her two year olds are up to and then just one word popped into my head- "Conspirators". Not just twice the mess. This could be one of those situations where the total is greater than the sum of it's parts. But I am sure my friends, the parents of these adorable little girls would tell you that the joys more than outweigh any of the troubles."So what next?" I ask. "What happens to the other baby?" They just say that the dead baby will just dissolve (ew) and my body will absorb it. (Ew-ew.) And they wanted to do more follow-ups, so I was to come back the next week.

At the next appointment I remember laying there on the table watching the monitor, looking for that reassuring little heartbeat to know that I still had the one baby, and relieved to see that he had grown, and then I noticed something. (Which I am sure caught the ultrasound lady's attention right off) I wrote this in my journal that night- The other one is still there. I'm confused, but I don't say anything. (maybe it's a miracle!)

By the next week I noticed it still getting bigger, and this time I voiced my thoughts- "Um, isn't that other baby supposed to dissolve and go away?" I asked. "Why does it look like it's been growing?" It didn't look like the other one, it wasn't growing like the other one. And then my emotions took a weird turn here. I was barely trying to figure out how to mourn a baby I never really had, wishing against odds that it would turn out alright and now I wanted it gone! I wanted it to dissolve and go away and leave my other baby alone!

(This is the part where my memory gets a little hazy- shock does that to you) Another doctor came in, and they looked and they looked, and they measured, and they double checked, and they followed the blood flow in the umbilical cord, and it took quite awhile. And their super-friendly, outgoing attitudes were replaced with very nice, but very serious expressions. And then, we had to go sit and talk to the doctor, the guy who's name is on the door, the expert in this area. We had to sit in his office. The last room you want to sit in when you visit with a doctor. With him behind his desk, and John and I on the other side, and then he explained my "condition".I had or the babies had, what is called TRAP Sequence. Twin Reversed Arterial Perfusion Sequence. 6 years later, and I still remember those words. I even spelled them right without spellcheck. Basically the umbilical cords were messed up, and the dead twin was stealing blood (and therefore nutrients) from the healthy baby. I guess this happens in like less than 1% of identical twins. Then (and this is where it gets really hazy) he proceeded to outline the list of problems that can occur from this. Everything from missing a finger to heart failure before he was even born. There was even a really good possibility of terrible chromosomal abnormalities, that if the baby survived til birth he would have no quality of life, probably be in a lot of pain, and then die within a few days anyway. I don't want to bore you with numbers and percentages, but they were bleak. The odds truly were against us. This is the part where I started having doctors offer to "take care" of this pregnancy, and then I could start over fresh in a month or two. Several times I had that offer laid at my feet. This was a baby I wanted, and loved, and could provide a happy home for, and I never imagined or thought in my wildest dreams that abortion would be offered to me as a viable solution. How crazy is that? John and I each dealt with this news in the only way that we could. I went home and crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my head and cried and cried and cried. John went straight to the computer to learn all he could. And what he learned was terrible. He wouldn't even show it to me. Grotesque images of deformed babies who had sucked so much life out of the healthy twin, that the dead one was twice the size of the living one. The one image that will stay with me forever is an ultrasound a had a couple weeks later. The other baby was moving. The really creepy part was that because the blood supply he was stealing was inadequate, only the bottom half of the body was developed. It had no heart, no head, no arms or brain, but it did have a smaller torso, and legs, and those legs were kicking. Because it did have a nervous system. Like the creepy science experiment I saw in college where they cut a frog in half and hooked the spine up to electricity to watch the legs kick.We did learn that there was a surgery that was another option. There was a doctor in Philadelphia who could do a surgery when I was twenty weeks along that would separate the twins, and fix it, but it would cost somewhere around $75,000 or more, and insurance wasn't gonna pay for it. "Experimental" they called it. And it was only successful like 50% of the time anyway. I think by this point I wasn't on bed rest any more, but I still spent a lot of time in bed crying and praying. Wishing that pulling the covers over my head would make it all go away. Friends and family were never far away, doing what they could, and praying for us as well. And all those prayers were heard. The chromosomal analysis we had done at 13 weeks came back normal. While both babies continued to grow, Zach's growth remained healthy and normal (if slightly on the smallish side) and the other baby seemed to get smaller and smaller on the monitor, but only because Zach was getting bigger and bigger. The special surgery wouldn't be needed, and Zach was healthy and strong. My mom came out to stay with us when I was about 28 weeks along. She slept on my couch for two months and took care of my other kids, and cooked and cleaned, and I was put back on bed rest (because by then I had already had two babies with no drama in the pregnancy born 8 weeks early). She stayed as long as she could, and when I was 36 weeks along, she had to go back to work.

My water broke the day after she left to go back home to Utah. 36 weeks. That's seriously a record for me. My water broke in the middle of the night and a good friend and neighbor came to stay with our kids and sleep on the couch until someone could relieve her. My water broke, but the contractions didn't start so the hospital put me on pitocin to get things moving along. What a horrid, exhausting, painful, day. My water broke at midnight, but Zach wasn't born until after ten pm the next night. I got an epidural this time, and the pain was so bad I was crying and begging for it first. (I've heard that pitocin makes the contractions downright unbearable- I believe those rumors)

So Zachary Ian Berrett was born at 10:47 pm on August 20th, 2002. He was my biggest baby at 4 lbs 13 ounces. And he was perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes. The moment they put that bloody, slimy, disgusting, little thing on my stomach, I fell in love. They always whisked the others away first to make sure they were okay and clean them up. He was so perfect he got to come home with me. All of my other babies had to spend 2-3 weeks in the hospital before they were strong enough to come home. I saw the other baby when it came out of me, it looked like a little gray mushroom. I think we had to sign papers so they could take it back to some lab for study. We didn't name it or anything.
So I got my miracle. When all this started before I even knew how bad it was gonna get, I was praying for a miracle. While I didn't get that particular one, I know our prayers were answered, and I will forever feel blessed to have my healthy, blue eyed little boy Zachary in my life.

Happy Birthday, Zach.

Thank you, Nick

I just got home from book club tonight. We read "the ultimate gift." I liked the book, but for once, I hear the movie is better. John is of course, out of town. He's in Colorado this time. There was a time when that would have meant that I would have to miss out on something like book club. I can't tell you how many times that has happened. It's become something to expect almost. I have ____ planned for this day, therefore, John will be out of town. Murphy's law. (If I ever figure out who Murphy is, I'm gonna give him a swift kick in the pants.)

But now, I have a Nick. He's 11 1/2, and is excited to take on more responsibility and is happy to be my right hand. I got to leave for two whole hours, spend time talking and laughing with other women, come home past 10 at night, and find all my babies put to bed and sound asleep. What a blessing. Just today, he asked me, "Mom, do you think I am getting more mature?" So yes, Nick I do. Right now, I can appreciate just how mature you are becoming and I am very grateful for it, and totally wanted to blog about it so that there would be a permanent record out there of what a great kid you are, with just one of the reasons why I appreciate you.

I am loving having a babysitter on hand. I was kinda worried how summer would go with all these kids in the house all day, but (knock on wood) so far it is great! I got to go to Weight Watchers today without Christopher. - Everyone noticed. "Where's Christopher?" they would ask? and not because he's so cute (which he is) but because he is (and I am totally not exaggerating here) the naughtiest child there. I go the one session where you can bring little kids and not get dirty looks. And still I spend more time chasing after him than I do listening. I bring all sorts of toys and bribes and treats, but he doesn't care. There are cabinets to get into and bathrooms to play in and front doors to escape from, and other kids toys and treats to steal as well.

So, thanks, Nick. Thanks for giving me back some of my sanity. Thanks for being such a big help to me, thanks for taking such good care of my other babies, and putting them to bed so that I can feel like I can go out every once in awhile. And at the risk of sounding totally embarrassing and mushy- I love you!

Sprouts

There's a Sprouts around the corner from my house. It's my new favorite store. Not so much for what I can buy there, which is part of it, but how it makes me feel. It's a farmers market type of store lots of fresh produce, and my very favorite bread and even chocolate covered gummy bears for John (but who are we kidding? I can eat my fair share of those little wonders as well.) But getting back to how it makes me feel. It makes me feel all healthy and green.

I wish I could draw a picture, that would explain things better, but if I were to drive there, It would probably take 5-10 minutes, including loading kids in the car, unloading kids from the car, making the two left hand turns it takes to get into the parking lot, etc. But if I walked, it only takes 7 minutes (at a leisurely pace, I timed it) though not including strapping Christopher into the stroller. There's a sidewalk that takes you straight to the front door, and I don't even have to cross any streets. It's a lovely walk on days like yesterday. (and today for that matter, but I went yesterday and was pondering all this in my 15 total round trip minutes of walking that it took me to pick up some fresh bread, milk and strawberries.) Here's the list of things that made me feel so good that I came up with yesterday-

- Perfect 68 degree weather

-cloudless skies

-slight cool breeze

-birds chirping

-happy baby (he loves stroller rides)

-15 minutes of exercise

-buying healthy things for my family

-using my re-usable green bag instead of getting plastic

-recycling the plastic bags from all the other stores

-not using the gas it would have taken in my Suburban (Yukon XL, but same thing really)

-bonus- I can send Nick there when I need a last minute ingredient. No driver's license required.

Also there's a Subway just across the parking lot. So for lunch I could totally spend the extra two minutes and go pick up a sandwich. It makes me feel all Jared-like. Except I think I am sure he walked more than 10 minutes each way to get his subway sandwich and lose all that weight. Still....

Of course like all perfect things, I know this will have to come to an end. In a month, the situation won't be so idyllic, and the only breeze I will welcome will be from the comfort of my air-conditioned gas guzzling car.

Graduation! (sorta)

During the past three years I have had numerous meetings with specialists and teachers and therapists and what not about Zach, and I think we are finally seeing the end of the tunnel. We've had therapists (well just one anyway) in our home working with him, he's and therapists at school, and he's gone to special pre-schools and a special kindergarten, but today I finally got the news that they are mainstreaming him and he gets to go to a regular old first grade class next year (but will still get some speech therapy.) It's amazing to see how far he's come in the past three years, even the specialists think his growth is remarkable. To me he's always been such a sweet, wonderful, special little boy, but I really worried about what his future would hold. He's always been such an introvert and would prefer to spend hours playing alone with his trains than socialize with anyone. I would actually cry because he wouldn't talk. I would try so hard, to get him to just say the first sound of some words, and he couldn't or wouldn't, I don't know, but when he would hit himself in the head with whatever was in his hand I gave that up and we worked on sign language which was a walk in the park in comparison. I was told by a friend to call the school district (which was the best advice I ever got, I will forever be grateful to that friend and the schools and teachers and programs that helped us) I would fill out all their forms, and it was so obvious that he needed help. He came up short in several areas by a long shot. We're still working on some issues, but today I got to hear how smart and funny he is, and how he's not getting his work done because he's TOO social (the most beautiful words that at one point not too long ago, I really never thought I would hear).

Thankful thing #?

So I've stopped counting and/or trying to come up with a new thankful thing each week, but on Monday as I was attempting to make some cookies for St. Patrick's day, I was thinking that I am thankful for my KitchenAid. I love it. Sometimes I wish it were bigger like the kind with the arms that raise the bowl to the mixing attachment, or sometimes I wish it were a different color, like pink, but then I think how my mom's KitchenAid is over 30 years old and running strong and it is a really ugly olive color, and what was she thinking when she picked it out, and will I still want a pink one in 30 years or shall I be grateful it is just plain white?So here's the long story. When John and I were first married, just as most newlyweds are, we were pretty poor. We had a baby right off and we were both trying to go to school and John worked hard for what we had. John knew I really wanted a KitchenAid mixer. Like I mentioned before my mom had one, and I really couldn't fathom functioning in a kitchen without one. I didn't have NEED of one yet, because there was no one to bake for, but that never stopped me from stopping "just to look" whenever I'd see them. So for our second Christmas, John surprised me with one under the tree. I truly had no idea what was in that ridiculously heavy box. I would have guessed he had lined a box with bricks just to throw me off the sent of a bathrobe or something before I would have guessed a KitchenAid. I cried when I opened that box on Christmas morning. I didn't use it much those first couple years, because John was never around and Nick was a baby, and I didn't need to eat cookies all by myself but I use it all the time now. I even have two bowls just in case (which happens quite a bit) I need it. In fact on Monday I made two batches of cookies, because there never seems to be enough. The kids love them, John always wants to give them to his Home Teaching Families, I was going visiting teaching the next day, etc. etc. So here's a few pictures cause I took a bunch.

Also I need to point out there's this whole Bosch vs. KitchenAid mixer thing going on. Kinda like the whole Mac vs. PC thing. Well I can totally say that a KitchenAid is better. I'm not a bread baker, so I can't really compare, that functionality, but I know cookies and last November I went up to Utah to learn how to make traditional Swedish cookies. John has an Aunt who makes like 120 dozen every year, actually this year I think it was more. She has like 8 different recipes. Some of them are so old they actually have ingredients in them like "washed butter" huh? I guess they used to actually wash the butter to get the salt out. weird. And other ingredients you can only get at IKEA like Pearl sugar cause American grocery stores don't generally carry it. Well we mixed up all these cookies in her Bosch and I wanted to scream. Mixing cookies with a dough hook?!?! It was so slow. I am guessing (because logic would dictate) that you can buy a paddle attachment, but she didn't have one. The cookies did turn out fabulous as usual, but I kept thinking that I wish I had my mixer. The only thing that I can think that might be it's saving grace, is that when they made these cookies way back when there where no KitchenAids then, so maybe properly creaming the butter and sugar isn't so important? Of course the cookies turned out fabulous, as they always do, they're downright sinful, but that's not the point.

So anyway I ended up making like 90 cookies, and the plan was to take them to friends and neighbors for part of FHE, but I totally didn't finish baking til like 10 pm, so they didn't get frosted until Tuesday. Even though technically St. Patrick's day was over, I still frosted them green. (besides I had sprinkles I wanted to use)

Here's the real story. After spending most of the day inside cleaning and mopping, I was ready for some fresh air, so instead of getting straight to baking I took the kids to the neighborhood park to enjoy the especially beautiful Arizona spring afternoon.

I tried to get a cute picture of them together all in green, but it wasn't happening. Zach and Christopher didn't want to sit down, they wanted to play, Madison had hurt her nose and was doing her best not to cry, Nick was trying to cooperate, but in reality was only wrestling with Christopher. Maybe next time.

A Blessing and a Curse

I'm so sick of Dr.'s appointments I could scream. Lately it's been like twice a week. Kids have been tested for strep, (two negatives), bladder infections, (no again) and ear infections. (bingo! we have a winner!)

Yesterday Madison was supposed to go in for her 8 year well child check-up - they informed me she needed a few boosters, so I made an appointment for her, but at the last minute sent her to school and took Nick to the doctor to get his ears checked out. (ear infection) I had to reschedule her well child, schedule Nick (he needs shots as well) that will be this Thursday. I know Christopher is like 6 months behind as well.

Last Friday afternoon I spent more than an hour in the waiting room at the pediatric urologist so that he could tell me that Zach has a pretty large cyst on the end of his penis that needs to be removed. What I thought was a blister actually isn't. (I made some comment in a post a couple weeks ago) I thought the worst that was going to happen was that they'd drain it or something. No. Next Wednesday they will be cutting it out. It's supposed to be "a simple procedure." I promised to buy him a present. He wants a Build a Bear. I feel so terrible the kid could ask for a PSP or a Nintendo DS (that's the current hand-held system, right?) at this point and I'd give it to him with a smile.

My poor kid. Unfortunately he has the best memory. I'd like to say that I think he's young enough to forget, he's only 5, but for instance just the other day he asked me "Remember last March when we went to Legoland?" And I'd have to think, "was that March? or was it April? I think it was during spring break, so it was probably in March. How does he remember what month it was??? " I'm going to be a wreck come Wednesday. Other than actually having babies, or having my preemies in the hospital, this is the first major thing ever for any of my kids. Well Zach was dehydrated really bad once when he was two and he had the flu, so he had to be admitted then, but this is the first time for our family when the word "anesthesiologist" isn't accompanied by the word "epidural".

So the point of my title? I hate doctor's office waiting rooms. I hate making appointments, pulling my kids out of school, racing to get there on time, finding babysitters when necessary, etc. I hate immunizations in general. I get this knot in my stomach when they mention the possible side effects. It started when we worried Zach was autistic and a friend of mine with an autistic son filled my head with worry that immunizations might have caused it. (She totally believes it in her case, or at least she did 3 years ago.) My Doctor is adamant they are safe, but there is this little voice in the back of my head telling me I am pumping poison into my children.

On the other hand I am grateful for the medical care available to my family. I am grateful that the immunizations do protect my kids from diseases that children have died from only a couple generations ago. I am grateful for insurance. Ours isn't the best, but it is infinitely better than the alternative. I am grateful to have easy access to the medicines my family needs and the "simple procedures" I'd rather not think about. I guess this makes this my Thankful thing #3.

Thankful thing #2

My Bed. What a difference a good night's sleep makes! When Madison was a teeny baby and kept me up most of the night I started to notice a pattern. I needed 4 hours of sleep just to feel sane. Just sane. Less than that and I was tempted to chuck her out the window. I needed 6 hours to feel functional. Brush my teeth, feed the Nick (then 3) something somewhat nutritious (notice I didn't say COOK- cheerios are nutritious), dress him and myself for the day, etc. But I need a good, solid 7-8 hours of sleep to feel productive. - You know, cook, clean, go to the grocery store, maybe excercise.

Yesterday was a very bad day. Sunday Christopher was sick and took a nap around 2:00 pm. I checked on him around 9:00 to make sure he wasn't dead (seriously) and then decided to let him sleep longer, since I figured when I snuck in there and covered him up he barely stirred, he must need the sleep. So at 12:30 am he woke and was up for the rest of the night. I put on a blues clues video and managed to catch 45 minutes here and there, but I probably got less than 5 hours. Remember I need 6 to be functional? Well Zach stayed home sick, the school called and I had to go get Madison (her tummy hurt) and I had to take the younger boys to the Dr. to check them out. I think they are all fine, Christopher tested negative for strep and seems to be nearly himself again. Zach has an appt. with a urologist- (good thing he's only 5, if were old enough to know better, he'd kill me for writing this, but at this point he'd show anyone who asked) but I had to have him stay home because it was like he lost all bladder control on friday. He must have wet himself half a dozen times a day.- (it might be just laziness) but at any rate, instead of screaming at him any more to use the toilet, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and took him in. I still don't know what the problem is, he went to school today and they haven't called for me to come get him, but he has this jelly-belly sized blister on the end of his penis. (sounds lovely, eh?)He says it doesn't hurt, but we need to get it taken care of. So that was my day yesterday.

Last night I got seven un-interrupted hours of sleep and feel much better. I even cleaned my bathroom and vacuumed my room among all the other random things you do in a day just to keep things running. (Trust me, that's a VERY productive day)

Unfortunately I have to admit I sleep better when John is out of town- I have a hard time going to bed, cause it's weird to get in an empty bed, so I stay up later to make sure I am really tired so I nearly fall asleep before my head hits the pillow and then the paranoia doesn't have time to set in. But when he's here he generally likes to cuddle, so I don't sleep as soundly when he's there. Ah, the things we do in the name of love.

thankful things

So I said I would be copying other people's blogs and posting things I am thankful for so this will be number one on that list. However first I'd like to say a few things. For starters, this list is in no particular order, just what happens to make me happy at that moment. Secondly, I reserve the right to re-visit any and all topics as I feel so inclined. Thirdly, I would like to mention the four big F's in my life just for the record. They of course are Faith, Family, Freedom, and Friends. These are the things I hold nearest and dearest to my heart and value them above all others. If many of my other thankful posts hit on shallow and/or materialistic matters, I'd just like to have that out there.

That said, today I am thankful for my walkman. I'm not talking about the kind of walkman that went everywhere with me 15 years ago, which had both a tuner and a tape player (oo-la-la) this is a swanky new walkman. It's my cell phone and mp3 player. It's also a camera, but I got another (better) one of those. So I don't really use it that much, but I know how to use that function just in case. John got it for me over a year ago at Christmas time and it probably took me almost a whole year to figure out how to do more than just use it as a phone, but now it is my baby. I love it because it keeps me motivated. While the weather here in Phoenix is nice, it's lovely to go for walks and listen to Les Mis or Harry (Connick, jr.-)or whatever else strikes my fancy. Did I mention John also got me a bigger memory stick so I have tons of songs on it? Just for the record however, you won't find any country, rap, R&B, or Disco on it. And certain other bands and genres I have an insane dislike for. In high school and college I worked at a music store and it was my most favorite job ever, even though the pay was lousy. But I have been missing it, not the job, but the music. Being a young mom, I have given up alot of things just because when you become a mom you have to stop being selfish. (Mostly anyway- don't ask me to share the good chocolate with my kids, as long as they are happy with Hershey's they can have that.) For instance my CD's got replaced with kid CD's, and it would just give me a headache to have my music competing with the cartoons and other kid shows that seem to be on 24/7. However after 11 years of this, I miss me. I need to figure out how to strike a balance, and this is one of my solutions. Also I take it to the gym and I can listen to stuff to keep my butt moving rather than some of that garbage they play there. If I had to listen to Justin Timberlake one more time I was going to quit the gym and accept the fact that this butt is here forever. Last but not least, I made a deal with myself that for every 5 pounds I lose I could download 10 songs or an album from the internet. I hit my first 5 today! yay! go me! This is important because a- I have a reward system, b- it continues to motivate me because I get something new and fresh to keep me going. One of my new years resolutions is to lose 60 pounds. (that will most likely be a whole other post) I'm thinking this year will be my year for two reasons- 1) I'm done having kids. Finished. The End. Surgical Proceedures have been done. So I don't have that hanging over me in the back of my head. Once, before Zach came along, I decided that I wanted to lose 20 before I got pregnant, so the gain wouldn't be so bad, only I think I dreaded the thought of being pregnant so much I sabotaged myself and actually gained 16! and 2) I have my walkman, a secondary motivation (you'd think buying cute clothes would be enough, but oddly it isn't)I look forward to popping those headphones in. The only real problem with this system is that there are times when I am sorely tempted to sing out loud like I'm alone in my car or something. Alone in your car is fine, but in public is just not very cool. Nobody needs (or wants) to hear that.