Recently in Family Category
We decided to put Maddie in Pre-K this year. It was a last minute decision, as we'd always said we'd keep her home until kindergarten. However, she's reading like a maniac (Berenstain Bears, anyone?) and we just feel like she's ready for it and would really thrive on the challenge. So we decided to enroll her.
The actual process of finding a preschool with an opening at the last minute (we started in May when most preschools fill up their rosters in January) is a story for another day, but now Maddie is enrolled and will be starting school in a little less than two weeks.
While I'm incredibly excited for her -- I don't doubt she's going to love it -- my Mommy Guilt is starting to kick in. A few people I've told have commented, "But I thought you guys were going to wait until kindergarten." True, but we changed our minds. Am I doing the right thing? I ask myself almost daily. One of the main reasons Bill and I decided to wait with both kids is that we want them to learn as much from home as possible before they start school. They'll have at least 12 years of mandated schooling, so having time at home to play and just be a kid was crucial to us. In addition, we know how difficult things can get in a full classroom, so we wanted to make sure she learned the things that might not be covered in a classroom full of children: manners, behavior, kindness to others, etc. Honestly, she'll only be gone four days a week, from 9am - noon, which really isn't a lot, but still...
Our last minute decision means that we had to go with the private preschool route. Not that it's a problem. It's a great school and definitely worth the cost (which has put a little dent in our budge) but I'm starting to get perturbed by how many extra costs and activities are required. We already had a mandatory meeting with the administration for paperwork, etc. Tonight we have a new parent orientation. Next week is a school picnic as well as a meet & greet with the teacher. In addition, the school supply list was nearly a whole page long, and required going to three different stores to get the very specific items. Oh, and the "school improvement fee" in addition to it all.
I hate to complain, but I'm really just starting to feel overwhelmed by it all. Maybe I was spoiled all these years because I never had to deal with this stuff. While everyone around me was getting supplies and such, the girls and I just did our normal day-to-day stuff, playing in the park, or with Barbies, etc.
This whole thing is big because it not only means a change to our schedule, but also to our general family dynamic as well. My kids usually sleep until 9am, but now Maddie will have to be at school at 8:50 sharp. That will be an adjustment, but it's probably a good thing. Now we'll actually be on the same schedule as most of my fellow moms, so playdates will be a little more convenient.
A very good plus to all of this is that I will have my mornings free to spend with Josie alone. She has never gotten much one on one attention, or much attention at all, in the shadow of her very outgoing and exuberant older sister. It will be really interesting to see how she thrives with her Mommy-Josie time.
Maddie was awake all last night coughing her poor little heart out. It's the same cough I had (and unfortunately still have -- I'm told having it last at least 3-4 weeks isn't uncommon,) where you cough so much you can barely catch your breath.
Josie woke up this morning complaining of a sore throat and then promptly threw up on me. She's lying here next to me surrounded by towels with a little bucket within reach.
It looks like both girls have what I have/did have. Unfortunately, in my case, it was both the sinus infection/bronchitis thing and the stomach flu at the same time. According to our pediatrician, both are going around right now. I'm really hoping the girls can keep up their routine of being complete opposites of one another, and that neither will get what the other one has. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
Between all the TV they watched while I was sick, plus all the TV they'll be watching the next couple of days, I'm sure their little brains will be fried.
And don't even bother telling me about alternatives to TV-watching while they're sick. When your baby throws up and immediately asks for "Do-wa the Explo-wa" before the vomit has even been wiped from her face... well, you just give her what she wants.
I took Josie to her dentist appointment yesterday. She and Maddie both have "deep crevices" in their teeth, which means that sometimes cavities will occur no matter how much you brush and floss. Josie had a sealant put on her molars to help keep food from getting so stuck in her teeth.
Josie was great and the whole process only took about 20 minutes (pediatric dentists are the way to go! they are trained to be fast and get the whole thing done and over with.) While she was working, she noted that Josie had another chip in one of her lower incisors. (Josie chipped one of her upper teeth last year pretty badly and had to have a cap put on it.) Now this lower one is chipped a little, but it's only a small surface one so it doesn't seem to be doing any damage. The kid is only 2 years old and has already had more dental work than I had in my first 5 years of life. I asked the dentist what the problem was. She said that Josie just has very fragile teeth.
Dentist: This poor baby must have been through a lot. Did she have any troubles at birth?
Me: Well, yes, she had a problem with her esophagus and she currently has alleriges and eczema and wears glasses.
D: No, no, I mean in the womb. Did you have any problems during your pregnancy?
Me: Um, no, other than having Braxton Hicks starting in my 6th month. Otherwise, no.
D: Hmm. There had to be something.
Me: Why?
D: Well, the baby teeth are formed while they're still in the womb, so the problems with her teeth now are a result of whatever happened while you were pregnant. Did anything happen? Was there a problem?
Me: No, not really.
D: Hmm. {and she shakes her head and scrunches her brows while she continues to work}
It was all I could do to keep the tears from flowing. She's usually a very nice woman, but she has no idea what kind of stab in the heart her comments were. As if there isn't already enough about which to feel guilty, let's add that I'm responsible for my kid's weak teeth. I made it through the rest of the appointment, but on the way home my mind just raced, trying to remember every little detail about what happened during my pregnancy with Josie. What did I DO?
I got home and called Bill to update him on Josie's appointment and ended up just bawling into the phone. I kept asking him if he remembered anything different about the pregnancy. He assured me there was nothing different, that I actually ate healthier with Josie (due to different cravings) and that there was nothing to worry about. He definitely made me feel better and took away some of the guilt I was feeling.
Thinking back on yesterday, though, makes me so angry. I hate to completely attack the dentist because she is a nice woman and (I hope) didn't realize what she was implying. However, it was a really awful thing to say, especially to a mother. Josie has had some challenges, and we are extremely lucky that what she has faced has really been small in the grand scheme of things, but would this woman have said something like that to the parent of a child with a more serious health problem? Say, a child with Downs Syndrome or Cystic Fibrosis? Would she sit there and interrogate the mother about what she did during her pregnancy?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As if yesterday weren't enough, today we had to take Josie in to get tested for diabetes. Over the past couple of weeks, Bill and I have noticed that Josie has to use the restroom at least every 20-30 minutes. She also drinks all the time and even wakes up in the middle of the night crying for a cup of water. Two major signs of juvenile diabetes. There is a little history of diabetes on my mother's side, so that made us more diligent about getting her tested.
Needless to say, I was extremely nervous most of this morning and afternoon before her appointment. I took her in, talked to the doctor, and then we were sent for lab tests. Josie needed to have some blood drawn, as well as give a urine sample. Well, as I waited in line to sign us in at the desk, Josie ended up having an accident in the middle of the waiting room. The staff were extremely understanding, but worried that there would be difficulty in getting a urine sample again. I assured them it wouldn't (and only 15 minutes later, we were able to get one.)
The blood test was the absolute worst. I put Josie in my lap (wet pants and all -- I was soaked afterwards) and held her while they tried to draw blood on one arm. The lab tech was relatively new and had so much trouble finding a vein. The odd thing was, though, that he didn't remove the needle and try again. He just kept the needle in her arm and rotated it inside her arm, looking for a vein. You could see the needle moving underneath the skin. Josie was screaming, my hands were shaking as I tried to hold her, and I kept staring at this guy, thinking It's probably time to give up now!! What are you doing??? FINALLY, he decides to call it quits and takes the needle out. He puts a bandaid on her arm and Josie calms down a little. At this point sweat is dripping down my face and I'm already starting to see black spots, things going in and out of Technicolor. I put Josie down, who immediately runs over to Maddie to show her the Daffy Duck bandaid and I slump down in the chair. The techs were great and immediately brought me some OJ and some tissues to wipe my face. It took about 5 minutes for me to get back to normal. I've passed out a few times before, but never when I've had the kids with me or in a situation like that. I mean, it sucks to start feeling sick to your stomach like that and see things spinning and going black, but to ALSO try to mentally keep track of your kids and what else is going on around you is even worse.
After a little break, we decided to try Josie's other arm. Thankfully, another tech came over to do it this time. One prick and she was in and the blood was drawn in less than 10 seconds. THANK YOU! I'm not sure I could take any more of the needle jabbing. Josie cried, but she was such a trooper and once she got her Wiley Coyote bandaid to go with the Daffy Duck one, she was set. She even understood and agreed to have her other arm checked after the first try. She said, "I don't want any more shots" and when I said that it would be just one more, she held out her arm and squeezed her little fist like they had told her to do, and nodded her head.
Afterwards, we went back up to pediatrics to wait for her doctor to talk to us about the test results (I do love how our HMO works -- everything is in the same building -- my OB is right across the hall from the pediatrician, the lab is downstairs across from the pharmacy -- it is SO easy with kids.) My stomach started rumbling while we were waiting and I was sure I was going to be sick at any moment. I just didn't want my little girl to have to face something else. After a while, the doc called us in. He didn't say anything at first, but just looked at me and gave me the thumbs-up sign. WHEW! All the breath I'd been holding up until that point just came out in one big sigh. It turns out that her numbers are all normal -- blood sugar, ketones, proteins, etc. No problems with blood sugar or with her kidneys or anything. The kid just likes to drink water and therefore ends up using the bathroom a lot because she's so hydrated! Aaack! The doc did say that the symptoms we noticed were the type that would point to juvenile diabetes, but in this case things were okay. Hallelujah! After the experience with the blood test, I'm not sure I would have been the best candidate to give her daily insulin injections anyway!
I'm sitting her writing this and it's all I can do not to fall asleep on the couch. It has been a rough couple of weeks, off and on, and I'm just drained. Christmas is my favorite time of year, though, so I'm determined not to let any bad thoughts ruin my holiday. I'm keeping positive and am enjoying every minute of this time with the girls. Like Disney World, Christmas is becoming more and more exciting as a parent. The girls are already thinking about what kind of cookies they want to leave Santa and if the reindeer will eat lots of carrots or just a few.
Then again, it might not be so bad to just fall asleep right here on the couch anyway, drifting off in the lights of the Christmas tree.
Maddie wrote her own letter to Santa this year. I've scanned it and posted it below. Click on the pictures to see the notes on Flickr.
Front of letter
Back of letter
Forgive me for my proud mom moment, but Maddie is reading! It started out this summer as "c-a-t" and "d-o-g" but it's now progressed to even more words. She'll read things to me when we're in the car or if we see a sign in the store. I bought her some Nora Gaydos books to see if they interested her, and she absolutely loves them. We've almost finished the entire set. At night we'll sit down together and she'll read one of the stories to Bill and Josie and I. You should see the look on her face once she's done. She is SO proud of herself. Whenever she reads a full story without any help, she gets to put a sticker on the inside cover of that book. She works so hard to get that sticker and it absolutely makes her day when she does. I've walked into the playroom a few times to find her reading the little stories to Josie. I'm glad it makes her so happy and that she's so excited about it. It makes me happy, because I LOVED reading as a kid (still do, when I have time), so much so that I would hide under the covers at night with a flashlight and my book so my parents wouldn't see. If that's the only thing that I pass down to her, then I'll be happy. The world, and the possibility to learn about it, has been opened up to her.
Maddie has been having nightmares the past few months. It's nothing regular, usually only once a week or two. Still, it's a really scary thing for a parent to see. Her poor little face, still half-asleep and crying and paralyzed with fear. Your heart just breaks and you know there's nothing you can do to prevent them. You just have to be there after they happen and assure that things will be okay. I've read that this is normal for this age. Their imaginations are taking off while they are starting to understand more and process it in their little brains. The result is a confusion of the two, becoming nightmares.
Last night Maddie had another nightmare. Around 4am I heard a scream/shriek, "Mommyyyyyyyy!!!!" I ran in and held her and got her to stop crying. She told me that she'd had a nightmare that she fell down a hill and had lost me. I promised her that, if that were to happen, I would fall down that hill right after her so I could be with her. It made her smile a little and she fell right back asleep.
This is going to sound weird, but... I felt so good all day today because of that nightmare. It's no secret that Maddie is a daddy's girl. She and Bill have this bond that I both adore and begrudge at the same time. Daddy is the fun guy. Daddy is who she wants to play with. Daddy is to whom her smile absolutely beams. It's really a great thing. Really. I'm so glad that they have that connection -- the father/daughter connection that I never had. I really am happy about it.
But I'm also jealous. Growing up, my siblings and I were always really close to my mom. I guess I just assumed all children have that closeness with their mothers. I expected it of both of my kids as well. Knowing that I'm not first on the list with Maddie does hurt a little sometimes.
And that brings me to her nightmare last night. In the middle of her terror, to whom did she call out? Mommy. Who was she scared would be lost to her? Mommy. It shows that regardless of our day-to-day interactions, I am still someone very important in her life. That makes me warm inside.
Of course, now that I know that, I don't want her to have any more nightmares.
I woke up on Saturday with Pink Eye. I haven't had it since I was a kid and I have no idea where I got it since the girls aren't in school, and neither they nor their friends have it. I went to the doc and he immediately prescribed some drops. I came home and emailed everyone I'd seen in the last couple of days to let them know. Luckily, the doc said I really hadn't been contagious at all up until this point. So far Bill doesn't have it either.
Yes, it kind of put a damper on our weekend, but there's one big reason that it was a bummer. We had a family portrait scheduled for Saturday afternoon. It was taken me over 2 years to get Bill to agree to having one. We'd put down a deposit and everything. He hates having his picture taken, and I'd finally persuaded him. Then I end up with Pink Eye! Luckily, we didn't lose our deposit and they agreed to just let us reschedule. However, if you're reading this Bill, that still means we have to go get one!
We took Sindri in for his surgery this morning. We were debating whether or not to get his leg amputated up until about midnight last night. We finally made the decision to go ahead and have it done. It felt awful taking away a leg that he seemed to be using pretty well (besides the limping), but we'd read that leaving it and waiting for it to actually break from the tumor would be a much worse, incredibly painful fate. So we decided to go ahead with the surgery.
The vet called this evening and said Sindri did pretty well. He made it through the surgery. (We weren't positive that would happen.) The tumor hadn't made it's way into the shoulder joint yet, so he was able to just remove the leg and not any of the scapula (longer procedure and more healing time). Sindri will be out of it until tomorrow morning so we're not sure how he'll be once he wakes up. We've been assured that he'll heal and adjust to three legs pretty quickly, but it still doesn't take away the guilt of doing this at all.
Our initial worries about the amputation this past week concerned his quality of life. The dog loves to run. Period. Would we be affecting his remaining days by providing him with a disability? And further discussion with our vet confirmed that we were really having unrealistic expectations to be thinking that he'll live even 6 months at the most. Anywhere from a few weeks to a couple of months left, and we'd be taking good time out of that for him to recover from an elective surgery. You can see how hard it was to make this decision. We'll get to pick him up tomorrow around 5pm and bring him home, assuming everything goes well during the day.
The hardest part of this is going to be how to explain it to the girls. I mean, it's one thing to tell them, when the time comes, that he went to "live on a farm," but it's another to say he went to the doctor and came home missing a leg. I can only imagine the types of fears that will start for us and their future pediatrician appointments.** We've been prepping them and talking about how he had a hurt leg and it won't hurt any more. I've made sure to note more than a few times that that kind of thing won't happen to them AT ALL when they go to the doctor -- it's special only for dogs that are sick. Not completely true, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
** Josie had a toilet automatically flush while she was on it the other day and now she won't use public restrooms at all. We've had to leave stores minutes after we've gotten there so she can go home and use the toilet. We don't need to add any more to her current repertoire of fears.
I feel awful for her and it immediately made me think of Sindri and how grateful I am that we found out early and can at least cherish his last few weeks and spend time with him. His amputation is scheduled for next Thursday and we're really hoping he makes it through the surgery okay and can get back running around and really enjoying life for the time he has left.
In other bad news, we woke up this morning to find that our fish, Nemo, has disappeared. Completely gone, no traces left.
Please take a moment and give your pets a very special hug today. You just never know.
Bill picked us up and helped put Sindri in the car. We got there and they did the normal check, looked at his leg and decided to do some x-rays. At first we thought there might be matted hair between the pads on his paws or maybe it was caused by a little fluid-filled cyst he had up on his shoulder. Either way, we weren't prepared for what we heard.
The vet came in and suggested one of us take the girls to the waiting area while he explained what was wrong. Bill suggested I take the girls and I immediately looked at the vet and knew. I just knew. I started to tear up but held it together as I took the girls to the hallway. I knew it was bad but I just didn't know the details.
I first got Sindri when I was in my last year at college. Bill and I had been together for about a year and half, and he had just moved to Atlanta to take a job. I missed him so much. We'd been together almost constantly since we met so it was a big adjustment not to see him every day. When the lease was up on my apartment that summer, I moved into a house with two other girls. I fully intended to get a dog. I'd always wanted one of my own and I knew having one would keep my mind off missing Bill.
I went to the Humane Society in the next town on a Friday afternoon. I was determined to get a small or medium-sized, short-haired dog. I was only going to look at first. I didn't want to make a hasty decision, so I'd look and then think about it before coming back on the following Monday. I looked at all the dogs and was drawn to a litter of puppies they had just gotten in. There were about 6 of them, so tiny, only 6 weeks old. They'd been discovered by a local farmer. All of them were brown except for one small black one. He was the tiniest one and kept getting pushed away whenever he tried to get to the food or water bowl. I picked him up and held him. He nuzzled my neck and let me hold him. For a minute, I thought he'd fallen asleep.
I knew right then that he was the one. Those big brown eyes just stared at me. I signed the paperwork, agreed to have him neutered, and he was mine. On the ride home, he lay in my lap for a while and then crawled under my seat. We drove straight to PetSmart so I could get a leash and dogfood and a crate and make an appt. for his surgery. I brought him home and the two of us became inseparable. I took him for walks (on which he tired so quickly, being so little. I ended up carrying him quite a lot.) I took him to the park. I even took him to get ice cream. The picture below was taken one day and actually run in the local newspaper.
I named him Sindri. It means "little elf" in Norse Mythology. It also happens to be the name of Bjork's son. But that was purely coincidence. I couldn't help that the name fit him perfectly. He was a little elf, with ears that stood straight up and the tiniest little body, the runt of the litter.
He was, and still is, an athletic and energetic dog. He loves to run and chase a ball. He's also the sweetest and, I mean this only with love, dumbest dog I've ever met. His happy little face just stares up at you and shows glee whenever you pet him or play with him. I sound cruel, but it's true. Potty-training didn't come easy for him, and learning tricks was never his strong talent. But he was, and is, so lovable and meek and has never EVER bitten anyone. He's terribly afraid of small dogs: our neighbors in our last apartment had a chihuahua and he would freak out and whine whenever he saw it. He's my buddy. He slept with me up until I became pregnant with the girls. He was with me when Bill and I broke up and moved apart for a while. He waits patiently for Bill to walk in the door each evening when he comes home from work, nearly pushing the girls out of the way as they wait as well.
Sindri has cancer. It's in his leg, near the shoulder right now, but we don't know how much it has spread to the other areas of his body. He has anywhere from two weeks to six months to live. After weighing all our options, we've decided to get his leg amputated. It won't cure the cancer, but it will at least take away the pain in that area for now. He's already on some painkillers to make it easier on him. He'll be able to enjoy life a little more until the other symptoms start showing up. The vet assures us that he'll have no trouble adapting to walking with three legs. The recovery will be quick: only about 10 days. Assuming everything goes well with the surgery, we'll be able to take him to the park (his favorite) and play with him once the skin has healed.
You can't even imagine how I feel right now. It's not just grief over his illness and what's to come. It's the fact that I've neglected and ignored him for so long. Since the girls have been born, I've just been overwhelmed with caring for two little people and I've barely remembered to feed the dogs at times. We used to take them to the park every weekend, but I honestly can't remember the last time we've done that in the past three years. I've yelled at he and Mallory (our other dog). Off the couch! Off the bed! I've gotten incredibly angry when they've had an accident or chewed something they shouldn't have. I've been downright mean. And you know what? That stupid dog still comes up to me and looks at me with those big brown eyes and loves me and wants to be petted.
You hear about people's pets dying all the time, but I guess I underestimated how it would feel. Even my childhood dog, Peke, who died last year didn't make me feel this way. Maybe it was the distance and time since I'd been with her. Either way, I know that this hurts. A lot. My only consolation is that we know we have a little more time with him. I can finally treat him the way he deserves. Countless treats. Sleeping on the bed. Lying on the couch. And lots of love and physical affection.
