So tomorrow is Christmas Eve and here I sit - dark hospital room, sleeping kid, monitors, tubes, iv's, cords, alarms. And deja vu kicks me right square in the face and suddenly I'm right back in Minneapolis 10 months ago. I was really hoping our hospital stay with Ever was going to be our "ok Mom, you've been through enough for a few years" pass but apparently the universe had other things in store for us.
Last night Mr. Easton had an asthma attack. Let me tell you - I've witnessed some scary shit in my life but your child being unable to breathe definitely ranks close to the top of that list. We have been doctoring for what they thought was exercise induced asthma. He was given a puffer and it is used to prevent/treat exercise related breathing attacks. Yesterday he woke up with a runny nose and by last night he was sitting on the couch sucking air so hard we could see his ribs every time he gasped for breath.
When we got to the ER his oxygen level was at 70. It should be at 98 and definitely no lower than 90. It was decided almost immediately that he would need to be admitted - they hooked him up to some oxygen and started 3 hard rounds of treatment back to back to open up his airways. After the 3 rounds and 2 1/2 hours of oxygen - he was still only at 85 WHILE hooked up to oxygen. They called his pediatrician right over (at about 1:30 am) and did a chest xray to confirm that he has a small touch of pneumonia in his left lung as a result of his breathing troubles. Luckily we caught it when we did - it was in the very early stages.
Last night I went home with Ever while Lee stayed with Easton. Ever is still nursing so we thought it would be best. Today was tough. Easton is 3 years old and one of the busiest boys I know. Sitting in a hospital bed hooked up to a bunch of shit that sets off crazy alarms every time he moves wrong is definitely trying for all of us, namely him. Not to mention trying to keep little miss Princess Pickle occupied in this small space as well.
Easton is now receiving steroid treatments every 2 hours and is currently still on oxygen. We will not be discharged until he is completely off oxygen and down to only needing treatments every 4 hours, which he will now need even at home as a form of prevention. According to our doctor we won't be going home for at least another 3 or 4 days.
HOWEVER - I'm not buying that shit. My kids are pretty damn awesome and I've already seen one defy all odds - so I have high hopes for this one as well. These kids have natural born fight in their veins and I fully believe we can be out of here in a day or two. You know me - I always choose to fight for that silver lining. And if we are still in here for Christmas - well, we've already been informed that Easton will get the royal treatment, what with being one of the only kids here and all. I guess Christmas is a pretty big deal around here - all the firemen and policemen come to visit the kids and bring presents and all that good stuff. That warms my heart and makes me feel better. And it also reminds me of yet one more thing I can do next year to make somebody else's holidays a little brighter - stop by and visit a hospital.
So for those of you wondering - Bismarck, St. A's, 4th floor, room 4340 is where we will supposedly be for Christmas. And if that's how it will be - I'll roll with it. I used to ask why me but now instead I ask why not. In light of some of the things that recently happened in this world - I'm choosing to count my blessings rather than my troubles. Sure, I'd rather be spending Christmas with our family and it crushes my heart knowing what Easton is being "cheated" of his Christmas . But hey - he will still get the pleasure of experiencing one regardless of where its at and whether or not the circumstances are ideal, right? If I have to march my ass to Target and buy some lights and tinsel tomorrow to to make this room feel like Christmas - I'm all over it.
Until next time..
Mama A
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
We'll Call Her The Overachiever
It's funny how people are brought in to our lives to teach us things - to open our eyes, hearts, and minds to new things. Our children are no exception. In fact - I think they are the ultimate learning experience and the very best life lessons. And while I say they are the best life lessons, that doesn't mean they are easy ones.
9 months ago at this very moment I was being wheeled in to the OR, scared shitless and ready to learn if I was getting a son or a daughter. And a daughter it was. And while her brother likes to call her Princess Pickle - we'll just call her "The Overachiever"....
Today at 9 months she weighs a "whopping" 13 pounds (as of her last check up, though we have another next week), just double what she weighed at birth. We mainly cloth diaper but she does wear a size 1 in disposables. She started solids very slowly around 6 months and has had nothing but rapid progress since. She has 1 tooth but thinks she is a big girl now and wants very little to do with baby food. I've gotten to the point of steaming veggies until they are soft or cutting up the cubes of frozen fruit I make for her to pick up with her fingers because she is so insistent on doing it all by herself. She is also crawling like a mad woman, constantly all up in our Christmas tree.
Yes, we'll definitely call her The Overachiever. Never in a million years would I have guessed this would be how our story would go. She is rarely making it on the charts at the 5th percentile or below - but for her condition she is so far beyond what was and is expected. And yes - she is tiny, but she is healthy as can be. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy having a baby that actually stayed a baby for awhile. It seems our children are babies for 5 minutes and then you blink and suddenly they're 3 and crawling up on your dryer and dumping Tide all over your damn floor.
This little fighter has been through so much in her short little 9 months - and something tells me she'd just rather run than walk. That seems to be her only speed - kick all odds in the face and shoot for the moon. I can't possibly imagine where she might have picked up that characteristic.. I'm still undecided as to whether I should be proud that she has the heart of a fighter and a stubborn as they come attitude - or terrified. I guess I should probably be both.
Parenthood. The craziest roller coaster you could ever possibly ride. But definitely the sweetest and most rewarding thing life has ever handed me. And please - don't hesitate to remind me of this when I catch Easton shaving the dog, flushing wash cloths down the toilet, or trying to feed his sister legos.
Until next time..
Mama A
"Though she be but little, she is fierce!" - William Shakespeare
9 months ago at this very moment I was being wheeled in to the OR, scared shitless and ready to learn if I was getting a son or a daughter. And a daughter it was. And while her brother likes to call her Princess Pickle - we'll just call her "The Overachiever"....
Today at 9 months she weighs a "whopping" 13 pounds (as of her last check up, though we have another next week), just double what she weighed at birth. We mainly cloth diaper but she does wear a size 1 in disposables. She started solids very slowly around 6 months and has had nothing but rapid progress since. She has 1 tooth but thinks she is a big girl now and wants very little to do with baby food. I've gotten to the point of steaming veggies until they are soft or cutting up the cubes of frozen fruit I make for her to pick up with her fingers because she is so insistent on doing it all by herself. She is also crawling like a mad woman, constantly all up in our Christmas tree.
Yes, we'll definitely call her The Overachiever. Never in a million years would I have guessed this would be how our story would go. She is rarely making it on the charts at the 5th percentile or below - but for her condition she is so far beyond what was and is expected. And yes - she is tiny, but she is healthy as can be. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy having a baby that actually stayed a baby for awhile. It seems our children are babies for 5 minutes and then you blink and suddenly they're 3 and crawling up on your dryer and dumping Tide all over your damn floor.
This little fighter has been through so much in her short little 9 months - and something tells me she'd just rather run than walk. That seems to be her only speed - kick all odds in the face and shoot for the moon. I can't possibly imagine where she might have picked up that characteristic.. I'm still undecided as to whether I should be proud that she has the heart of a fighter and a stubborn as they come attitude - or terrified. I guess I should probably be both.
Parenthood. The craziest roller coaster you could ever possibly ride. But definitely the sweetest and most rewarding thing life has ever handed me. And please - don't hesitate to remind me of this when I catch Easton shaving the dog, flushing wash cloths down the toilet, or trying to feed his sister legos.
Until next time..
Mama A
"Though she be but little, she is fierce!" - William Shakespeare
Friday, November 30, 2012
The Blog Revival
So here I am - about to try this blogging business again. New look, new approach. It seems I go in writing spurts, but lately I've come to realize a few things.
#1) My son is damn hilarious. As many of you know - few people in this life can keep me on my toes, and so the universe made damn sure to fix that. It sent me a naughty little colorful Easton so his mama would never be bored ever again. Or sane, for that matter..
#2) The world likes to hear about it. I get more messages and comments about the joy my children bring people by being their naughty little selves than I can even keep track of. So hey, I might as well give the people what they want - right.
#3) And last but not least.. While there are countless days that these damn kids of mine make me want to rip every last hair right out of my head one by one - these are all things I don't want to forget. Partly because I enjoy it and partly for payback. You know those famous words your mother always told you - "I can't wait until someday when you have a child just like you?" Well guess what - this son of mine is in for it one day. And his mother will be fully prepared to remind him why.
And with that I have a little story for all of you. The latest "issue" we are having here in the Kugler house, if you will. My son has a delightfully colorful mouth. Sometimes in a way that tickles the hell out of me - and other times (when choice four letter words fly) it mortifies me. But as anybody who knows me will confirm - I asked for this. And I have no choice but to take full responsibility.
Anyway, it first began with the word "crap". Not terrible, but also not something I wanted my newly 3 year old running around saying as a part of his every day vocabulary. So with the help of Jake & The Neverland Pirates he replaced "oh crap" with "oh coconuts". Now - he still slips once in awhile and I will catch him saying "Oh CRA- I mean oh coconuts!" Cute, right? Until we were sitting at the dinner table and he uttered the much dreaded four letter word that I hoped by miracle he would never pick up. "What the FUCK!" Yep, you read that correctly. Remember - I am taking full responsibility and owning this one as it is a word that flies far too easily out of my mouth. We ignored it at first but he said it again so on to Plan B - and we scolded him.
It happened a few times again and every time he got in trouble. So Mr. Too Smart For His Own Good divised a little plan of his own. He coined the phrase "What the FOX." Yes, what the fox. And what's even better - he says it, pauses for a moment, growls a little (you know - to make sure I know he actually meant to say fox and not the four letter version), and then smiles at me with that look. That look that says "I just pulled one over on you and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it because a fox is an animal and there is nothing wrong with saying it as long as I remember to growl when I say it". Yep, there you have it folks - my newly 3 year old son who is too damn smart for his own good and his mother who totally asked for it. And I know for damn certain my own mother is getting great pleasure out of all of this.
Until next time..
Mama A
#1) My son is damn hilarious. As many of you know - few people in this life can keep me on my toes, and so the universe made damn sure to fix that. It sent me a naughty little colorful Easton so his mama would never be bored ever again. Or sane, for that matter..
#2) The world likes to hear about it. I get more messages and comments about the joy my children bring people by being their naughty little selves than I can even keep track of. So hey, I might as well give the people what they want - right.
#3) And last but not least.. While there are countless days that these damn kids of mine make me want to rip every last hair right out of my head one by one - these are all things I don't want to forget. Partly because I enjoy it and partly for payback. You know those famous words your mother always told you - "I can't wait until someday when you have a child just like you?" Well guess what - this son of mine is in for it one day. And his mother will be fully prepared to remind him why.
And with that I have a little story for all of you. The latest "issue" we are having here in the Kugler house, if you will. My son has a delightfully colorful mouth. Sometimes in a way that tickles the hell out of me - and other times (when choice four letter words fly) it mortifies me. But as anybody who knows me will confirm - I asked for this. And I have no choice but to take full responsibility.
Anyway, it first began with the word "crap". Not terrible, but also not something I wanted my newly 3 year old running around saying as a part of his every day vocabulary. So with the help of Jake & The Neverland Pirates he replaced "oh crap" with "oh coconuts". Now - he still slips once in awhile and I will catch him saying "Oh CRA- I mean oh coconuts!" Cute, right? Until we were sitting at the dinner table and he uttered the much dreaded four letter word that I hoped by miracle he would never pick up. "What the FUCK!" Yep, you read that correctly. Remember - I am taking full responsibility and owning this one as it is a word that flies far too easily out of my mouth. We ignored it at first but he said it again so on to Plan B - and we scolded him.
It happened a few times again and every time he got in trouble. So Mr. Too Smart For His Own Good divised a little plan of his own. He coined the phrase "What the FOX." Yes, what the fox. And what's even better - he says it, pauses for a moment, growls a little (you know - to make sure I know he actually meant to say fox and not the four letter version), and then smiles at me with that look. That look that says "I just pulled one over on you and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it because a fox is an animal and there is nothing wrong with saying it as long as I remember to growl when I say it". Yep, there you have it folks - my newly 3 year old son who is too damn smart for his own good and his mother who totally asked for it. And I know for damn certain my own mother is getting great pleasure out of all of this.
Until next time..
Mama A
Thursday, September 6, 2012
To my daughter on her 6th month birthday..
It seems like just like yesterday my world was flipped upside down with your arrival - and yet at times it feels like it was a lifetime ago. You came to us in the most nonconventional way - which looking back now only seems fitting. After all, you are my daughter. On that day 6 months ago I experienced more emotion in one day than I think I had - up until that point - experienced in an entire lifetime. Fear, anger, sadness - happiness, surprise, relief, strength, gratitude.
The days that followed are days I don't revisit often in my mind. While your recovery was record breaking and I am forever going to be thankful that our time there was far shorter than expected - it was still the hardest thing I've ever faced in my life, and so I keep them tucked away. Never forgetting, but not frequently reliving.
Oh miss Ever Lucy, dear daughter of mine - you were born to do great things. Like beat odds and break records. Your strength has been ever present since the moment you came in to this world. Don't ever lose that fight. I know there will come a day when you come to me and say "Mom, I can't." And I will tell you..
When you were only 3 hours old you had a major surgery to put all of your organs - intestines, liver, colon, stomach, ovaries, appendix - back inside your body, when they told us it would take days for that to even be a possibiliy. When you were 2 days old I finally saw you with your eyes open, and better yet - I even got to hold you. When you were 3 days old you were moved from the NICU to ICC, something many gastroschisis babies never even get to do. By the time you were a week old you were pooping, something that was expected to likely take a month or longer. On day 8 I got to give you breast milk for the first time and met your big brother. By day 15 we were headed home, leaving Minneapolis Children's hospital as a memory and taking their record for fastest recovered gastroschisis baby wtih us. And here you are today - 11 pounds of giggly good-as-new, you'd-never-know-there-had-even-been-anything-wrong happy, perfect little Ever. Our pride and joy and your big brother's world.
And so my darling daughter - you can do anything. I know this, I saw it, I watched you. Your big brother likes to call you Princess but little does he know you are far more Mulan than Cinderella. Don't ever lose that either. You've shown me more strength and given me more courage and fight and hope in all your 6 months than you will ever know. You've made me stop and realize what truly matters in this life. You've reminded me never to take things for granted. To always keep your chin up and be strong. To always always have empathy - there are always people out there who have it far worse. And last but not least, you've shown me what miracles look like. Because you, my baby girl - are a miracle of the most wonderful kind. I love you to the moon and back.
"May the odds be Ever in your favor."
Love,
Mom
Friday, July 6, 2012
"Sometimes the laughter in mothering is the recognition of the ironies and absurdities. Sometime, though, it's just pure, unthinking delight."
I love being a mother. From the absolute core of my being I know that is what I was destined to be. Sure I wear many hats - hair stylist, friend, weight loss extraordinaire, daughter, cook, writer, baker-Ms.-In-The-Kitchen creator.. but motherhood is my greatest love.
Today is an extra special day in our house - Little Miss Miracle is 4 months old. Now I know you may be thinking - really, celebrating by the month, isn't that a bit much? And my answer is no. Every day in this house is a celebration. A celebration of love and each other.
Four months ago today we brought one remarkable little lady in to this world in the most unconventional way. The first time I saw her I was only allowed a quick glimpse. The first good look at my brand new daughter was just moments before she was whisked off to surgery - and the majority of her internal organs were outside her body. And I vowed at that moment that I would never take my life or my children for granted ever again and I would raise them on a strong foundation of love. And that is exactly what we have done.
In this house we: make messes. Get dirty. Play tractors and trains and trucks. We read books and sing songs and tell stories. We paint. We take all the tiles out of the coffee table and line them up multiple times a day - they make a fabulous road for every toy vehicle imagineable. We cook. We imagine and invent. We make homemade play dough. We go outside. Last week it was 90+ degrees and I found a bag full of syringes from the hospital when Ever was born so I filled a tupperware container with cold water and we went outside and chased and squirted each other for four hours. That evening we had popsicles for dinner.
It's hard to believe Ever has been with us for 4 months already. Even harder to believe how far she has come in 4 short months. Sometimes it feels like our journey in Minneapolis was a lifetime ago but yet I still remember everything like it was just yesterday. I remember the smell of the hospital, the constant beep of the monitors.. I remember the sadness in my heart from seeing my brand new daughter for the first time and how scary it was that all her insides were on the outside. I remember the agony of not being able to hold her or even see her awake for days. And I remember the fight it triggered in me, the fight it triggered in all of us.
We are so blessed. It was not a fun road or journey - but I am grateful for the lessons and strength that came with it. Never take anything for granted - life is short and there are so many people out there who have it far worse than you. Attitude is 90% of the battle - you can get there by being miserable and whining and making everyone else around you miserable or you can choose to fight for the silver lining. And last but not least - when you feel like you've got nothing left, rely on love. Love truly conquers all.
Today Ever is a perfectly healthy 4 month old little girl. She is tiny - but don't let that fool you. She is one strong little shit, holding her head up and rolling around in her crib. She is finally out of newborn diapers and making her way out of newborn clothes - they all still fit but it won't be for much longer. The last time we had a check up she was about in the 15-20th percentile which is incredible because gastroschisis babies usually don't even register on the chart with regular babies. Next week she has shots and I am looking forward to seeing her stats once again.
So to my babies - Easton and Ever - thank you for the opportunity to do the best thing I have ever done in my life. To be a mom. Your mom. And thank you for the valuable life lessons you've shown me along the way. I am nowhere near perfect but I will spend every day of my life being the very best mom I know how to be because at the end of my life I want you both to be able to say "My mom loved the hell out of me." Until next time.. <3
At Hiddenwood with the kiddos
Syringe water fight
Today is an extra special day in our house - Little Miss Miracle is 4 months old. Now I know you may be thinking - really, celebrating by the month, isn't that a bit much? And my answer is no. Every day in this house is a celebration. A celebration of love and each other.
Four months ago today we brought one remarkable little lady in to this world in the most unconventional way. The first time I saw her I was only allowed a quick glimpse. The first good look at my brand new daughter was just moments before she was whisked off to surgery - and the majority of her internal organs were outside her body. And I vowed at that moment that I would never take my life or my children for granted ever again and I would raise them on a strong foundation of love. And that is exactly what we have done.
In this house we: make messes. Get dirty. Play tractors and trains and trucks. We read books and sing songs and tell stories. We paint. We take all the tiles out of the coffee table and line them up multiple times a day - they make a fabulous road for every toy vehicle imagineable. We cook. We imagine and invent. We make homemade play dough. We go outside. Last week it was 90+ degrees and I found a bag full of syringes from the hospital when Ever was born so I filled a tupperware container with cold water and we went outside and chased and squirted each other for four hours. That evening we had popsicles for dinner.
It's hard to believe Ever has been with us for 4 months already. Even harder to believe how far she has come in 4 short months. Sometimes it feels like our journey in Minneapolis was a lifetime ago but yet I still remember everything like it was just yesterday. I remember the smell of the hospital, the constant beep of the monitors.. I remember the sadness in my heart from seeing my brand new daughter for the first time and how scary it was that all her insides were on the outside. I remember the agony of not being able to hold her or even see her awake for days. And I remember the fight it triggered in me, the fight it triggered in all of us.
We are so blessed. It was not a fun road or journey - but I am grateful for the lessons and strength that came with it. Never take anything for granted - life is short and there are so many people out there who have it far worse than you. Attitude is 90% of the battle - you can get there by being miserable and whining and making everyone else around you miserable or you can choose to fight for the silver lining. And last but not least - when you feel like you've got nothing left, rely on love. Love truly conquers all.
Today Ever is a perfectly healthy 4 month old little girl. She is tiny - but don't let that fool you. She is one strong little shit, holding her head up and rolling around in her crib. She is finally out of newborn diapers and making her way out of newborn clothes - they all still fit but it won't be for much longer. The last time we had a check up she was about in the 15-20th percentile which is incredible because gastroschisis babies usually don't even register on the chart with regular babies. Next week she has shots and I am looking forward to seeing her stats once again.
So to my babies - Easton and Ever - thank you for the opportunity to do the best thing I have ever done in my life. To be a mom. Your mom. And thank you for the valuable life lessons you've shown me along the way. I am nowhere near perfect but I will spend every day of my life being the very best mom I know how to be because at the end of my life I want you both to be able to say "My mom loved the hell out of me." Until next time.. <3
At Hiddenwood with the kiddos
Syringe water fight
Happy 4th of July!
Dad & his babies at Deep Water
No-mess finger painting
And today - starting the day off in the very same way we do every single day. Snuggling on the floor. Happy 4 months Ever Lucy! <3
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Summer Slacker
I know I promised to keep up this blog, and I assure you I am trying. However - as you saw from my last post I more than have my hands full. And I wouldn't want it any other way. So I thought I would take a little time out of my morning to update you all on the Kugler house happenings.
Easton is - well - Easton. I'm sure by now you've all gotten the idea on THAT one. Last weekend we took the kids to Lewis & Clark Days and he got to burn off some of that good energy. He had a blast at the parade (of course - because it was full of farm equipment and that's what the sun rises and sets on in his little world) and then we took him over to bounce his little heart out in the bouncy houses. I thought they might be a little big for him yet but he proved me wrong - my much too fearless little 2 year old.
Trying to feed Sophie his popcicle
Since he is so "busy" (an understatement - for sure) his dad thought a sandbox would be a good idea. Easton helped him build it and I snapped this picture out our back patio. We truly live in paradise.
And the sandbox proved to be a brilliant idea. Yesterday was his first day really trying it out - and I had to give him a bath by 2 pm because he had sand in places that don't exactly see daylight..
Then you have our Little Miss Miracle. She amazes me more and more every day. The only thing different about her than a "normal baby" at this point (aside from the scar and incredible badass factor) is that she is on the small side, which is perfectly normal. The last time we were to the doctor she was measuring at about the 15 percentile - and gastro babies don't normally even fall on that chart, which is awesome. She is definitely on the tiny side - still fitting newborn clothes and diapers - but it isn't a concern considering the situation. As you can see she is one happy baby - all full of smiles all the time. We officially moved her to her crib a few weeks ago and she is doing fabulous with it. She actually sleeps better there than she did in our room, which is happy news for all of us. She has even been sleeping though the night - go us! And while this is great news and all, this baby stuff just goes sooo fast. I'm enjoying the hell out of every moment because you blink and they're walking. Or in my case, you blink and they're climbing up on your dryer and dumping your laundry detergent all over hell. Until next time.. <3
Trying to feed Sophie his popcicle
Since he is so "busy" (an understatement - for sure) his dad thought a sandbox would be a good idea. Easton helped him build it and I snapped this picture out our back patio. We truly live in paradise.
And the sandbox proved to be a brilliant idea. Yesterday was his first day really trying it out - and I had to give him a bath by 2 pm because he had sand in places that don't exactly see daylight..
Then you have our Little Miss Miracle. She amazes me more and more every day. The only thing different about her than a "normal baby" at this point (aside from the scar and incredible badass factor) is that she is on the small side, which is perfectly normal. The last time we were to the doctor she was measuring at about the 15 percentile - and gastro babies don't normally even fall on that chart, which is awesome. She is definitely on the tiny side - still fitting newborn clothes and diapers - but it isn't a concern considering the situation. As you can see she is one happy baby - all full of smiles all the time. We officially moved her to her crib a few weeks ago and she is doing fabulous with it. She actually sleeps better there than she did in our room, which is happy news for all of us. She has even been sleeping though the night - go us! And while this is great news and all, this baby stuff just goes sooo fast. I'm enjoying the hell out of every moment because you blink and they're walking. Or in my case, you blink and they're climbing up on your dryer and dumping your laundry detergent all over hell. Until next time.. <3
Friday, May 11, 2012
"A boy is truth with dirt on its face, beauty with a cut on its finger, wisdom with bubble gum in its hair, and the hope of the future with a frog in its pocket."
I know I promised to keep up my blog and believe me I'm trying.. but thanks to a certain handsome little someone this mama has had her hands FULL. Allow me to tell you a little story to help you understand..
A few Saturdays ago it had rained so Lee had the day off and we were hanging out at home enjoying the day together. Playing trains on the floor, watching cartoons, reading books, coloring.. It really was a great Saturday. That afternoon I decided to take a shower with Ever. I got in, got her all cleaned up, and then yelled for Lee to come take her so he could get her dressed. About 10 minutes later I was standing under the hot spray thinking about how nice those few moments of alone time were when my thoughts were interrupted by Lee hollering for me and by the tone of his voice I knew something was very wrong. I shut the water off and went running (yes, soaking wet) out to the kitchen to find Lee hanging over the sink holding a screaming Easton and blood everywhere. He was yelling for me to get a towel for Easton's hand, which looking back is a little funny since I hadn't even grabbed one for my dripping self. Lee had been drinking a glass of water when Easton asked for a drink. He took the glass from his dad and turned to walk away and tripped and fell on it, slicing his palm open with the broken glass.
So once again, off to the ER we go.. Our first thought was to just have Lee take off with him while I stayed back but then we realized that wouldn't work since we needed to make sure Easton held the towel on his hand. Luckily Lee had just finished getting Ever dressed so she was all ready to go and I just threw on some clothes (quite literally) and a hat on my dripping wet head and off we went.
I sat in the back seat between the kids holding Easton's hand while he sang me songs all the way to Bismarck. This gave me a little time to collect my thoughts over what had just happened. If anybody else had been there to see this they would have surely thought we beat our children because thinking back I realized he was crying partly out of pain but mostly because he broke the glass. He felt so terrible about it and of course all I could think was "FORGET THE DAMN GLASS!".
Stitches went very well. He screamed bloody freaking murder when they gave him the shot to numb it, but sat there telling the doctor and nurse about tractors and combines and sprayers all the while they stitches him up. Oh yes, my little farmboy. Meanwhile this mom was sitting next to his bed with her head between her knees because she'd almost passed out. You'd think seeing my other child's internal organs would have toughened me up a little bit but alas apparently I'm still just a weenie. His doctor couldn't believe how good he sat (we didn't even have to hold him down) and told him we were welcome back any time and that he would gladly stitch him up whenever he needed. I told him to watch it as this child of mine is only 2 and this was already our second ERoom rodeo.
After he was all stitched up they sent us on our merry way with plenty of suckers, stickers, and his hand all bandaged. I was quite proud of my son for being such a little trooper. Until 3 hours later when he climbed up on my dryer and proceeded to dump 2 bottles of laundry detergent all over our laundry room floor. Clearly even a bum hand doesn't slow that child down. But that's a whole nother story. Until next time.. <3
A few Saturdays ago it had rained so Lee had the day off and we were hanging out at home enjoying the day together. Playing trains on the floor, watching cartoons, reading books, coloring.. It really was a great Saturday. That afternoon I decided to take a shower with Ever. I got in, got her all cleaned up, and then yelled for Lee to come take her so he could get her dressed. About 10 minutes later I was standing under the hot spray thinking about how nice those few moments of alone time were when my thoughts were interrupted by Lee hollering for me and by the tone of his voice I knew something was very wrong. I shut the water off and went running (yes, soaking wet) out to the kitchen to find Lee hanging over the sink holding a screaming Easton and blood everywhere. He was yelling for me to get a towel for Easton's hand, which looking back is a little funny since I hadn't even grabbed one for my dripping self. Lee had been drinking a glass of water when Easton asked for a drink. He took the glass from his dad and turned to walk away and tripped and fell on it, slicing his palm open with the broken glass.
So once again, off to the ER we go.. Our first thought was to just have Lee take off with him while I stayed back but then we realized that wouldn't work since we needed to make sure Easton held the towel on his hand. Luckily Lee had just finished getting Ever dressed so she was all ready to go and I just threw on some clothes (quite literally) and a hat on my dripping wet head and off we went.
Stitches went very well. He screamed bloody freaking murder when they gave him the shot to numb it, but sat there telling the doctor and nurse about tractors and combines and sprayers all the while they stitches him up. Oh yes, my little farmboy. Meanwhile this mom was sitting next to his bed with her head between her knees because she'd almost passed out. You'd think seeing my other child's internal organs would have toughened me up a little bit but alas apparently I'm still just a weenie. His doctor couldn't believe how good he sat (we didn't even have to hold him down) and told him we were welcome back any time and that he would gladly stitch him up whenever he needed. I told him to watch it as this child of mine is only 2 and this was already our second ERoom rodeo.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
I Go Back...
Who just finds their life long best friend when they are only four years old? Well let me tell you all a little story.. of two girls who were destined to meet and become sisters for life.
When I was four years old we moved from my grandparent's farm to Garrison. And as you all know from my previous post I was definitely a farm girl through and through. Which is probably why I hit it off instantly with the skinny little freckled face tom boy down the street who wore cowboy boots and Christmas shirts in July and danced to her own tune. It all started with raiding her house for "the good snacks" day after day for our "picnics" in the park. Little did we know that was just the beginning of a lifetime of friendship, craziness, and adventure..
Not only did we meet when we were four years old, but my mom was dating her uncle who she married years later. Which meant we were best friends who became cousins (which our family took full advantage of by making us serve punch for EVERYTHING), so we even got to spend holidays and family functions together. She is the family I got to choose, since she was my friend long before.
Doing what we do best..
We spent our entire childhood side by side.. climbing bales and throwing rocks at the cows (I swear to God they were mean and had it coming!), "dominating" the neighbor boys in football, watching videos every morning while we waited for the bus, and eating popcorn and playing poker every single day after school (to this day my mom will joke that she was afraid she'd need to find us girls a Gambler's Anonymous meeting before we were even in 5th grade).
Then came jobs, cars, and concerts (together, of course). That was literally our lives. The things we did for entertainment.. Like filling the inside of my car completely with paper towels and driving around like that. Or waiting in line for 8 hours in 107 degree weather in the direct sun to see Alan Jackson--yes, I will admit now we were out of our damn minds. We spent many days "broadcasting" at the lake. That means we walked around pretending like we had our own countdown on CMT because naturally we were far more entertaining than the hosts CMT actually had. I will never forget the one time I parked behind her at the lake and she didn't realize it and backed up--apparently at about 40mph, because the back bumper of her car was so lodged in my front bumper that our cars were completely stuck together. Only us, I know..
Driving around with paper towels..and yes, that is panty hose on her head.
She enjoys "posing".. especially in jumpsuits, apparently.
How could I possibly resist posting THIS?!
Then came graduation, college, new cities, boys, new friends, and even more adventures (you got it--together). I got married, moved away..She stayed in Fargo to persue more adventures of her own. But of course that didn't stop us from having our adventures together.. We got matching tattoos in honor of each other. She was there for the birth of my son. We went to hundres of concerts. Attended our FIRST Cowboys game. Traveled to San Francisco..
Crazy girls even got Grandma to do a shot with them!
COWBOYS!
Santa Cruz, California
Who just finds their life long best friend at the age of four? I did. My maid of honor, the godmother to both my children, my cousin, my soul sister.. My best friend. The girl I can have a full conversation with without either of us ever saying a word.
My maid of honor <3
Dearest Lindsay, my life would never have been what it is without you, full of craziness, color, and yes--adventure! I could not have asked for a more perfect person to grow up with. To have by my side through the best times and worst. And so today I would like to wish you a Happy 25th Birthday!! I love you more than you will ever know!! Until next time.. <3
When I was four years old we moved from my grandparent's farm to Garrison. And as you all know from my previous post I was definitely a farm girl through and through. Which is probably why I hit it off instantly with the skinny little freckled face tom boy down the street who wore cowboy boots and Christmas shirts in July and danced to her own tune. It all started with raiding her house for "the good snacks" day after day for our "picnics" in the park. Little did we know that was just the beginning of a lifetime of friendship, craziness, and adventure..
Not only did we meet when we were four years old, but my mom was dating her uncle who she married years later. Which meant we were best friends who became cousins (which our family took full advantage of by making us serve punch for EVERYTHING), so we even got to spend holidays and family functions together. She is the family I got to choose, since she was my friend long before.
Doing what we do best..
We spent our entire childhood side by side.. climbing bales and throwing rocks at the cows (I swear to God they were mean and had it coming!), "dominating" the neighbor boys in football, watching videos every morning while we waited for the bus, and eating popcorn and playing poker every single day after school (to this day my mom will joke that she was afraid she'd need to find us girls a Gambler's Anonymous meeting before we were even in 5th grade).
Then came jobs, cars, and concerts (together, of course). That was literally our lives. The things we did for entertainment.. Like filling the inside of my car completely with paper towels and driving around like that. Or waiting in line for 8 hours in 107 degree weather in the direct sun to see Alan Jackson--yes, I will admit now we were out of our damn minds. We spent many days "broadcasting" at the lake. That means we walked around pretending like we had our own countdown on CMT because naturally we were far more entertaining than the hosts CMT actually had. I will never forget the one time I parked behind her at the lake and she didn't realize it and backed up--apparently at about 40mph, because the back bumper of her car was so lodged in my front bumper that our cars were completely stuck together. Only us, I know..
Driving around with paper towels..and yes, that is panty hose on her head.
She enjoys "posing".. especially in jumpsuits, apparently.
How could I possibly resist posting THIS?!
Then came graduation, college, new cities, boys, new friends, and even more adventures (you got it--together). I got married, moved away..She stayed in Fargo to persue more adventures of her own. But of course that didn't stop us from having our adventures together.. We got matching tattoos in honor of each other. She was there for the birth of my son. We went to hundres of concerts. Attended our FIRST Cowboys game. Traveled to San Francisco..
Crazy girls even got Grandma to do a shot with them!
COWBOYS!
Santa Cruz, California
Who just finds their life long best friend at the age of four? I did. My maid of honor, the godmother to both my children, my cousin, my soul sister.. My best friend. The girl I can have a full conversation with without either of us ever saying a word.
My maid of honor <3
Dearest Lindsay, my life would never have been what it is without you, full of craziness, color, and yes--adventure! I could not have asked for a more perfect person to grow up with. To have by my side through the best times and worst. And so today I would like to wish you a Happy 25th Birthday!! I love you more than you will ever know!! Until next time.. <3
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing..
As many of you know, last week my great grandma passed away. 102 years old--what a life she lived! With the event of her passing, it brought back family members I hadn't seen in some time. And it brought us all back home.. to the farm, to good old Roseglen--the tiny little dot on the map that is now merely a post office and a bar. To where I grew up, to the "house that built me".
Lucas, our crazy cousin Steven, & I
Steven & the girls!
It's amazing how much a "place" can shape who you are and who you become. I haven't always been a hair stylist, a Weight Watcher's leader, a writer, a great cook, a mom. I once was a girl who spent summers with skinned knees, climbing trees, riding horse, playing basketball in the hay loft, drawing pictures in the dirt inside the rims on the tractor tires, staying outside from dawn until dark. Who spent countless hours next to her grandpa in a tractor. Who grew up watching her grandmas carefully kneed bread dough and roll out pie crusts and lefse until one day at a very young age I was "finally old enough" to be taught to do the same.
"That girl" all grown up, zip lining through the barn on the hay chute!
Winters were spent hollowing out the biggest snow pile we could find, sledding at the coulee, and hours of "working on the snowmobiles" in the barn. Spring meant lots of tractor time with Grandpa--the Steiger had a small space next to the seat that was just big enough for me to sit and I was fully convinced it was designed that way for that very purpose. The highlights of my summer were vacation bible school (all those games of Red Rover and singing with Grandma's guitar) and the few times we were lucky enough to get to go to the Makoti swimming pool. And of course Saturday nights meant roller skating at the hall and Sundays meant church. And with that came fall.. or harvest, rather. I can't put in to words what harvest is to me and it wouldn't matter anyway--only a fellow farm kid would ever understand why the sight of a wheat field tugs at my heart.
I once was a girl who didn't know of Starbucks. Folgers out of tiny little cups and Grandma's homemade donuts did the trick. I once was a girl who didn't own a single pair of designer jeans. Hell, back then naked in a mud puddle was far more in fashion. I once was a girl who didn't own an iPod. With Grandma's guitar and a family that sings, not only did we listen to music but we made it too. I once was a girl who didn't own a MacBook or an iPhone. I didn't facebook or blog or text. Not only did we actually pick up the phone to make calls but we'd take the time to go and visit those we loved and missed.
Hay loft basketball
Showing the younger generation how its done..
..and showing themselves they can still do it!
"I once was a girl"..
No, I'm still her. And I'm more thankful for that now than I have ever been. Now that Grandpa David and great Grandma Marjorie are gone and we have their legacy to pass on. Now that I have children of my own who I want to grow up to look back on memories like these rather than memories of "things"..who I want to instill with values much like my own. Who I will teach to kneed bread and roll out lefse. Who I will show to look outside and see opportunity and adventure rather than boredom. I am so thankful to be able to raise them on a farm as I was. And as they grow, I will share this part of me with them in hopes that one day it will become a part of them too.. Roseglen. <3
He's well on his way to being "our little farmer"..
And of course our little diva
Until next time.. <3
Lucas, our crazy cousin Steven, & I
Steven & the girls!
It's amazing how much a "place" can shape who you are and who you become. I haven't always been a hair stylist, a Weight Watcher's leader, a writer, a great cook, a mom. I once was a girl who spent summers with skinned knees, climbing trees, riding horse, playing basketball in the hay loft, drawing pictures in the dirt inside the rims on the tractor tires, staying outside from dawn until dark. Who spent countless hours next to her grandpa in a tractor. Who grew up watching her grandmas carefully kneed bread dough and roll out pie crusts and lefse until one day at a very young age I was "finally old enough" to be taught to do the same.
"That girl" all grown up, zip lining through the barn on the hay chute!
Winters were spent hollowing out the biggest snow pile we could find, sledding at the coulee, and hours of "working on the snowmobiles" in the barn. Spring meant lots of tractor time with Grandpa--the Steiger had a small space next to the seat that was just big enough for me to sit and I was fully convinced it was designed that way for that very purpose. The highlights of my summer were vacation bible school (all those games of Red Rover and singing with Grandma's guitar) and the few times we were lucky enough to get to go to the Makoti swimming pool. And of course Saturday nights meant roller skating at the hall and Sundays meant church. And with that came fall.. or harvest, rather. I can't put in to words what harvest is to me and it wouldn't matter anyway--only a fellow farm kid would ever understand why the sight of a wheat field tugs at my heart.
I once was a girl who didn't know of Starbucks. Folgers out of tiny little cups and Grandma's homemade donuts did the trick. I once was a girl who didn't own a single pair of designer jeans. Hell, back then naked in a mud puddle was far more in fashion. I once was a girl who didn't own an iPod. With Grandma's guitar and a family that sings, not only did we listen to music but we made it too. I once was a girl who didn't own a MacBook or an iPhone. I didn't facebook or blog or text. Not only did we actually pick up the phone to make calls but we'd take the time to go and visit those we loved and missed.
Hay loft basketball
Showing the younger generation how its done..
..and showing themselves they can still do it!
"I once was a girl"..
No, I'm still her. And I'm more thankful for that now than I have ever been. Now that Grandpa David and great Grandma Marjorie are gone and we have their legacy to pass on. Now that I have children of my own who I want to grow up to look back on memories like these rather than memories of "things"..who I want to instill with values much like my own. Who I will teach to kneed bread and roll out lefse. Who I will show to look outside and see opportunity and adventure rather than boredom. I am so thankful to be able to raise them on a farm as I was. And as they grow, I will share this part of me with them in hopes that one day it will become a part of them too.. Roseglen. <3
He's well on his way to being "our little farmer"..
And of course our little diva
Until next time.. <3
Friday, April 6, 2012
I feel a full moon coming on..
One month ago today we brought a little miracle in to this world. And two weeks later we got to bring her home. It's funny how the memories of the hospital will forever be seared in to my brain like it just happened yesterday, but it feels like an eternity has passed since then.
Our blog has taken a bit of a backseat to life, but I'm ok with that. Every day I wake up knowing that these early years of my children are going to be gone before I know it so every day I make it my priority to make the most of every day. Of all the lessons I took home with me from the hospital, that may have been the most imortant one. I recently came across a quote that said you should never grumble about getting old because it's something that is denied to many. How sad and how true is that. Which is exactly why we should live every day like its our last.
Easton got a haircut!
3 am giggles
Since coming home, we have finally gotten back to a fairly normal routine. Easton is back to his happy, normal self. Well, he was.. and then yesterday happened. It was 7:30 am when he came out in the living room (dressed in pajamas and boots, dragging his blanket behind him) and declared that he was "Going to work." Awesome. This should have tipped me off. By 10 am he had flushed an entire roll of toilet paper down the toilet, emptied a full salt shaker on his bedroom floor, and filled his tractor trailer with olive oil, which managed to leak all over my kitchen floor. I love my son more than words can say, but by 10 am yesterday I was ready to send him outside to play and lock the door behind him. About that time the UPS man showed up with a new delivery of k cups I'd ordered, surely a direct sign from the coffee Gods who knew I would otherwise likely resort to vodka before noon. Clearly the full moon is coming because this was exceptional behavior, even for a 2 year old--and not in a good way. Fortunately today is a new day and so far so good. The horns have not yet come out, but then again the day is young.
This weekend has big things in store. Auntie L is coming home, the circus is in town (which we may or may not partake in--that will all depend on whether or not my son decides to put the horns away for awhile), coloring Easter eggs, and Easter at Nana Lucy's on Sunday. I even tried my hand at making some fun Easter treats yesterday, and they turned out great. Sorry for you Weight Watchers that follow, I didn't "lighten" this one or figure points. We all gotta live a little sometime, right? :)
I would also like to take a moment to thank all of you for all the incredibly wonderful things you've done--the cards, the messages, the gifts, the letters.. They all mean so much. I am humbled every day over and over again to discouver the lives Little Miss Ever has touched. One day last week we had a shipment arrive--a brand new pink car seat, stroller, bouncer, 2 cases of diapers, and 17 outfits. They came from Noah in Califnornia, a wonderful man who followed Ever's story.. and we have never even met him. We had a car seat for her, Easton's old one--which was green and yellow--and Noah told us a little girl just can't have a green and yellow car seat. How does one even begin to thank somebody for that? My eyes still fill with tears every time I think about it. Words can not even express how much you have all touched my heart in following our story.
If there is anything I want people to take from this its a) always have hope--miracles ARE possible, I watched one happen right before my very eyes and b) never take your children and your blessings for granted. I wish you all a happy and blessed Easter weekend! Until next time.. <3
Our blog has taken a bit of a backseat to life, but I'm ok with that. Every day I wake up knowing that these early years of my children are going to be gone before I know it so every day I make it my priority to make the most of every day. Of all the lessons I took home with me from the hospital, that may have been the most imortant one. I recently came across a quote that said you should never grumble about getting old because it's something that is denied to many. How sad and how true is that. Which is exactly why we should live every day like its our last.
Easton got a haircut!
3 am giggles
Since coming home, we have finally gotten back to a fairly normal routine. Easton is back to his happy, normal self. Well, he was.. and then yesterday happened. It was 7:30 am when he came out in the living room (dressed in pajamas and boots, dragging his blanket behind him) and declared that he was "Going to work." Awesome. This should have tipped me off. By 10 am he had flushed an entire roll of toilet paper down the toilet, emptied a full salt shaker on his bedroom floor, and filled his tractor trailer with olive oil, which managed to leak all over my kitchen floor. I love my son more than words can say, but by 10 am yesterday I was ready to send him outside to play and lock the door behind him. About that time the UPS man showed up with a new delivery of k cups I'd ordered, surely a direct sign from the coffee Gods who knew I would otherwise likely resort to vodka before noon. Clearly the full moon is coming because this was exceptional behavior, even for a 2 year old--and not in a good way. Fortunately today is a new day and so far so good. The horns have not yet come out, but then again the day is young.
This weekend has big things in store. Auntie L is coming home, the circus is in town (which we may or may not partake in--that will all depend on whether or not my son decides to put the horns away for awhile), coloring Easter eggs, and Easter at Nana Lucy's on Sunday. I even tried my hand at making some fun Easter treats yesterday, and they turned out great. Sorry for you Weight Watchers that follow, I didn't "lighten" this one or figure points. We all gotta live a little sometime, right? :)
I would also like to take a moment to thank all of you for all the incredibly wonderful things you've done--the cards, the messages, the gifts, the letters.. They all mean so much. I am humbled every day over and over again to discouver the lives Little Miss Ever has touched. One day last week we had a shipment arrive--a brand new pink car seat, stroller, bouncer, 2 cases of diapers, and 17 outfits. They came from Noah in Califnornia, a wonderful man who followed Ever's story.. and we have never even met him. We had a car seat for her, Easton's old one--which was green and yellow--and Noah told us a little girl just can't have a green and yellow car seat. How does one even begin to thank somebody for that? My eyes still fill with tears every time I think about it. Words can not even express how much you have all touched my heart in following our story.
If there is anything I want people to take from this its a) always have hope--miracles ARE possible, I watched one happen right before my very eyes and b) never take your children and your blessings for granted. I wish you all a happy and blessed Easter weekend! Until next time.. <3
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