Neutropenic Fever

We are here again, Dave and I, sitting in a quiet hospital room. It was unexpected. He got really congested and started running fever over the weekend and was diagnosed with a sinus infection on Monday. Our family doctor gave him a shot and prescribed serious antibiotics and offered to admit him to the hospital. Dave declined but agreed to follow up with the oncologist on Wednesday if he wasn't dramatically better. He was still running fever and coughing hard enough to hurt himself on Wednesday so we called the cancer center. We both thought we might be wasting their time and expected to be told that he needed to finish his antibiotics and follow up in a week. That's not what happened.

The oncologist ordered bloodwork and a chest x-ray. The x-ray looked clear but the bloodwork revealed that his immune system is non-existent. His white blood count (WBC) was down to 800; his absolute neutrophil count (ANC) was .7. He was at serious risk for infection (more infection than he already had) so the doctor admitted him with a neutropenic fever.

I wrote a little about how chemotherapy affects the WBC while he was doing treatment. A more serious form of that side effect is a condition called neutropenia, which is an abnormally low amount of neutrophils. Neutrophils make up 50-70% of the body's white blood cells. Common symptoms of neutropenia are fevers and frequent infections, but it also makes common infections present abnormally because the body's normal immune response is supressed. For example, a sore might not develop pus when it becomes infected because the immune system isn't healthy enough to make pus. In the same vein, it can also make the chest x-ray look clear when really, pneumonia might be present. It's tricky like that.

It's fairly common to be hospitalized with a neutropenic fever during chemo treatment, but no one seems to know yet why this happened to him now - three months after treatment. They are running all kinds of blood tests to see if he has any viruses that could cause this drop in his white count. This is our first experience with an infectious disease doctor, so we are waiting to see if he has some weirdo disease. We do know they are testing him for the West Nile virus because he snooped through his chart this morning on the way to his bone marrow biopsy. Yes, he's getting another one of those because cancer is a small possibility but also because the bone marrow can apparently tell a pretty good story about what's happening in the body. They also did a CT scan this morning to look for infection.

Right now, we are waiting for all of those results while he gets IV antibiotics to prevent bacterial infections. They don't seem to think he has a bacterial infection right now because he would be sicker than he is, but like I said, they don't know anything yet. His oncologist sat right in this room this morning and told him, "You are still a mystery." So, we wait for answers and for his WBC to come up to the normal range (somewhere between 4,500 and 10,000).

The good news is - there's always good news - he isn't in excruciating pain after major abdominal surgery and he can eat whatever he wants.

Now I'll wrap up this educational post with a quote. After reading to him about neutropenia last night, he took a few minutes to digest the information and then asked me, "So I have necrophilia?"

No, no he does not. But if you visit, wear a mask because we don't know anything yet.

Hallowing 2012

That's how Ella says it, "Hallowing."

We trick-or-treated Main Street again this year and this time, Dave went with us. As a gorilla. Seriously, he spent a couple of weeks dreaming up reasons to buy the gorilla costume at Target, and we've made use of it twice in the last week. He's been trying to expose Luke to it so that he wouldn't be scared, and he mostly wasn't. Dave opened the closet to show it to him Monday night and Luke said, "It not real, Daddy." He was excited and laughing about seeing a monkey when we picked them up at Grandmother's yesterday, but he got a little upset when that monkey called him by name. Dave had to take off the mask and gloves and let him get used to it, but by the time we left the house, he was okay - and happy to announce to everyone that we had a monkey trick-or-treating with us.

I think Dave had more fun than the kids, walking up and down Main Street, grunting at people and scaring small children. One lady wanted to have her picture take with him, and another fondled his plastic gorilla nipples. He was quite popular.

My Crew

I did put red Kool-Aid on Ella's hair, but it didn't turn red because it's just too dark. She settled for being Adella, Ariel's brunette sister. It was her idea to go as a mermaid sister, and we had to look up their names and pick one that had brown hair. She was completely okay with Dave as a gorilla except that she was a little put out with the shedding: "Daddy, gorillas shed because I found a gorilla hair on my mermaid dress."  

Adella, the brunette sister of Ariel.

We brought the wagon again this year because I knew that Luke would be too busy eating candy to walk. I was right. I don't even know how many suckers and Reese's cups he ate, but it seemed like he was opening another one every time I turned around. I did manage to get a piece of cheese and two "tickles" (pickles) into him for supper, and I counted that as a win.

Football player.

We met up with Aunt Becca just as she was leaving the bank with the cutest sack of cash I've ever seen.

Bank robber and her bag of money.

As long as that stinkin' gorilla stayed away from him, Jake was all about trick-or-treating and riding in the get-away wagon with Luke. 

Jake and Luke

After Main Street, we went to the fall festival at church and made a round playing games. Then we met back up with Rebecca, Nathan, and Jake at Grandma and Pop the Pop's house to trick-or-treat our neighborhood. This is the first year we've walked our neighborhood and the kids loved it. By the end, even Jake was piling in and out of the wagon with his pumpkin, to run up to front porches. Jake can't say "trick-or-treat" yet, but Luke can, and he alternated between that and "pumpkin patch" as his greeting to the candy givers. Also, I'm in love with their manners - thanking all the people for the candy; it was good to hear.

Once we walked the big circle, we went back to Grandma's house to eat chili and give out candy. It looked like we were conducting fire drills in there, the way they raced to the door when the bell rang. They do love to give out the candy.

Today, we end our busy week of fall festivities with Crazy Hair Day at school - because it's also letter H week. Ella opted for lots of clips in her hair.

Lots of Clips

Luke wasn't really on board with the whole crazy hair thing - having woken up with a candy hangover - but we finally settled for this big curl on top. I orginally made a nice swoopy faux hawk, but he wore too many things on his head this morning and flattened it, so I had to redo it. 

Every day is Crazy Hair Day for Luke.

The real craziness is going to happen while he naps and all that styling gunk works it's magic, that's when I'll need a picture.

Pumpkin Patch 2012

Once again we subjected ourselves to the allergy-inducing fun of hay and farm animals and picking out our pumpkins during what is becoming an annual migration to the pumpkin patch. It was no good for our snot production, but bright, sunny days of playing outside rarely are. We do it anyway.

We jumped and slid down the big slides so many times that my legs felt more like noodles than legs.

Luke and Jake

We fed and petted the animals. The goats are still our favorite because they are just so personable - sticking their heads through the bars, beckoning us to come baaaaack with our little cups of goodness.

Ella wanted to bring a baby goat home.
We told her we don't have enough grass in our backyard to sustain one.

The sheep also put on quite a show of head butting each other and Luke, too, which he thought was hilarious. He kept sidling up to their pen with his head down, trying to get them to do it again.

Luke made new friends.

 Sometimes we acted like animals.

Baby Monkey

Of course, we rode the ponies. This was Luke's first time to get on a horse. He was excited. Dave walked beside him in case he started channeling his inner circus performer and trying to trick ride like the guys at the Dixie Stampede.

They have agreed that they will ride their horses
hanging upside down when they grow up, but this will do for now.

We took our annual mom-and-kids-walking-in-the-pumpkin-patch picture. It required more effort this time because the patch was crowded and the "wittle one" is 2 - thus, not on program.

Look how we've grown since last year.

We picked our pumpkins. Ella gave up her quest for the smallest pumpkin of all time this year and opted for a big one because she wanted to make a jack-o-lantern. She had convinced herself that she couldn't carry this pumpkin until we walked away to help Luke find his. Then the worry that someone else might come along and get it told her otherwise, and she picked it up and hauled it down the row after us.

Ella's prize pumpkin.

Luke originally picked a really big pumpkin, but his need to do all things himself won over his need for a giant pumpkin, so he settled for one he could carry. Also, all pumpkins are now known as "pumpkin patches." For example, "I wanna see my pumpkin patch, Mama!"

Luke's pumpkin patch.

Dave waited until Wednesday to carve them so they will last through Halloween. He ventured into spooky territory with the jagged smiley one, but no one seemed worried about it this year. Upon seeing their glowing faces on our back porch, the children felt compelled to name them. They chose their names on their own with no influence from us.

Meet Lighty and Ella Grace.

I Could be the Moderator

Or A Comparison of Preschool Conversation with Presidential Debates


On the drive to Grandmother's house this morning, I had an epiphany. I might be qualified to moderate the presidential debates. After all, moderating is one if my motherly duties. One of my major parenting projects of late has been teaching them the basics of polite conversation: 1. Acknowledge the speaker, 2. Respond respectfully, and 3. Don't interrupt. I get a lot of practice at moderating.

This morning's topic: Butterflies - Where do they fly and what color are they?

Let's review the transcript.

Luke: (upon backing out of the driveway) Mommy! I saw a butterfly!
Moderator: You did?
Luke: Butterfly way up high!
Ella: Butterflies don't fly way up high -
Luke: (interrupting) No! Mommy! Way up high!
Commence sixty seconds of loud, nonsensical talking over each other.
Moderator: STOP! We are going to take turns talking so that we can hear each other. Ella, please finish what you were saying.
Ella: Butterflies don't fly way up high. They fly low to the ground. (Continue a rather long-winded dissertation on butterfly flight patterns until she took a breath.)
Moderator: Luke, it's your turn.
Luke: (Driving home his point) I saw a butterfly way up high!
Moderator: (Attempting to move the conversation along) Cool. What color was the butterfly?
Luke: (Evading the question) Ummm - a baby butterfly..  umm..
Ella: (Interrupting) I saw a butterfly -
Luke: (Interrupting the interruption) No! My turn!
Moderator: Ella, it's Lukes turn to talk. You will have a chance in a minute. Luke, please continue. You saw a baby butterfly?
Luke: Baby butterfly (followed by additional nonsensical jabber until he took a breath).
Moderator: Ella, it's your turn.
Ella: (With an air of complete superiority) I saw a butterfly that was brown, black and yellow.

At that point, we arrived in Grandmother's driveway, thus ending round 587 of this year's Preschool Debates.

And it occurred to me that that conversation wasn't so different from the recent sparring I've watched on prime time television between two polished, prominent politicians. Maybe I'm due for a career change...

Original photo from www.huffingtonpost.com.

Snot Stresses Me Out

I’ve written about snot before. It was this time of year.

I hate it. It stresses me out. Seeing a little nose running first thing in the morning, hearing the yucky cough and the stuffy head – it sucks the life right out of me.
Is it teething? Allergies? A cold? Ear infection? Sinus infection?

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m destined to have snotty kids. It’s genetics. I’m still a snotty kid, but the difference is, I blow my nose when I need to instead of sniffing and snorting or just letting it run until I smear snot all over my face in annoyance.

My kids seem to live on Mucinex all fall, winter, and spring. Just like my brother and I lived on Sudafed. We took Sudafed like it was a vitamin, every single day. Ella’s been through allergy testing so we know that most of her snot is allergy-related. She’s a year-round Singulair taker, and we add Flonase and Mucinex as needed in the peak seasons. I suspect Luke is in a similar situation, though we haven’t seen an allergist for him yet. Also? He still has four molars to cut and when the snot coincides with loud grinding of teeth, it’s hard for me to believe it’s anything other than teething (regardless of what the pediatricians say).

Lord help me when they start bark-coughing. You know what that means, right? Croup. Which can be caused by a virus, bacteria, or, you guessed it, allergies. Any time Ella is snotty for a few days, she starts to bark-cough. It’s part of her deal.

But knowing what I know doesn’t make me less stressed about snot. Because I still have to decide if they can go to school/soccer/gymnastics/church. Is it safe to take them around Jake? Into public? I know that if they cough or sneeze, or God forbid, snot runs out, people are going to look at us like we’ve got the plague and think, “How could you bring that kid out like that, you moron?!”

I don’t send them or take them when they have fever or they are too miserable to play, but if I were to base the decision to leave the house on snot and coughing alone, I might as well pack them up and move to a cave in some foreign land until summer. I’m not sure I could get wireless internet in a cave in a foreign land and I’m certain all three of us would lose our flippin’ minds before summer, so that’s not an ideal solution. Thus, I’m left with deciding, on a daily basis from October to May, if the snot is just snot for snot’s sake or if they are genuinely sick and can’t be exposed to the public. Add to that the extra special bonus question: “Am I killing their livers with Mucinex?” and, well, I’m stressed out. For seven months. About snot.

Around Gatlinburg

We recently had the opportunity to take a much needed, long overdue vacation. Originally, Dave and I were going to go without the kids to get a break from all the real life we've been living, but as the date approached, we were both feeling like we needed to take them with us. I'm so glad we did. They needed a break from real life, too, and we all needed the time with each other without all the real life intruding on our time together.

We took a long weekend and went to Gatlinburg. We stayed busy but relaxed. We didn't worry about cooking, cleaning, laundry, and who needed to be where at what time for four days. Unlike our recently ridiculous schedule, we did kid-friendly things on a kid-friendly schedule. It really was perfect. They had a blast. We had a blast.

I collected my favorite quotes along the way, and here they are, a summation of our trip from their mouths.

"I not a baby! I me. Wuke." - Luke's response to Ella calling him a baby one night. There is so much truth in his idignation. He proves every day how much he is not a baby anymore. I'm so grateful for a few days of focused family time that allowed me to soak them up.

Daddy pretending to be a sleeping bear.

"Why is Daddy being so funny?" - Ella asked me this at bed time the last night. I had to ask a few more questions to understand, but she was basically telling me that she enjoyed all the play time with us during vacation and that she's been missing it. It was a very poignant moment; one that pointed out a problem in our recent home life. Dave and I haven't been doing enough playing. Since vacation, we've made a point to play more, and in response, some of our daily challenges with them are less challenging. It's not a new idea, but we did need the reminder. I'm grateful for her complete honesty and for the rolling in the floor, giggling play time.

Luke liked yelling, "Yee haw!" at the Dixie Stampede preshow.

"This thing's really moving." - Said in a worried voice, by Dave, while riding the kiddie balloon ride. In general, he and Ella were very cautious about all of the things we rode while Luke and I were more like, "Whoo hooo! Do it again!" I'm grateful for the opportunity to see their little faces experience new things.

"Dixie Stampede!" - Ella randomnly shouted this for a few days after we had supper at the Dixie Stampede. It was expensive enough that we questioned our sanity, but so worth it. We all loved it. I'm grateful for the resources to take a vacation.

"I fly." - Luke said this with wide-eyed wonder when our tram stopped on top of the mountain at Ober Gatlinburg. It was my favorite moment of the entire trip. I'm grateful for the things my children teach me every single day.

Halloween Preview

I am not making the kids' costumes for Halloween this year. It makes me a little sad, but I'm also giving myself a break. It's been a busy year, it's still a busy fall, so it's nice not to worry about finishing the costumes in time.

Also, the Costume Express people sent us a magazine and the little monkeys have been studying that thing like it's the Sears Wish Book. Ella has changed her costume five hundred and twenty-two times in the past month. I promised her that I would take her to the store to pick out a costume instead of ordering from the catalog, that way she gets that she can't change her mind once it's bought. As of the day before we went to Target, she was going to be a waterslide.

She ultimately picked out a mermaid costume. I guess she had already scoped it out because she went straight to it and grabbed it off the shelf. Unfortunately, the Ariel one didn't fit as well as I needed it to, so we opted for a generic mermaid. She has already asked me to put Ariel on it, so I will. I also promised her that we would Kool-Aid-dye her hair red for the occasion.

This morning she told me that next Halloween she is going to be Clarabelle Cow in the pool of gurgling bubbles - straight from the episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse they watched this morning. I already know how I would make that, but by then she will have chosen something else.




We decided for Luke, and he enthusiastically agreed, that he will be a football player. When we were at the Whistle Stop festival a couple of weeks ago, he dressed up as a football player and had his picture taken. He loved it so much that he melted into a tantrum when we finally got the helmet off of him and walked away from the tent.

Since then, he's been playing football in the evenings and wearing a t-shirt on his head - face stuck through the neck hole, t-shirt hanging around his head and shoulders like a nun's head covering - as a helmet. When Dave realized that he was pretending the t-shirt was a helmet, he suggested we get him a football player costume for Halloween.

We ventured down the Target Halloween aisle and there was not a single football player costume to be found. Dave found a youth helment in the sporting goods section but it was too heavy for Luke's little neck. Then, searching all around for an alternative (And seriously, there are no dress up clothes for boys. Why? There's a crap load of princess dresses, but not a single thing for boys except at Halloween.), we found a little Alabama helmet and jersey deal in a box. We broke that bad boy open to see if the helmet was lighter than the real one. It was. The jersey is for kids 5 - 9 years old, so it will be huge on him, but that means there's room for adding some fake shoulder pads.

So, my Roll Tide, football obsessed kid is going to be an

Alabama football player for Halloween, further solidifying the world's belief that we are the most die-hard Alabama fans on the planet. Seriously, he calls all football "Roll Tide". He named his own football Roll Tide. He runs around saying "Roll Tide! Alabama!" all.the.time.

He loves his helmet and wears it most of the time when we are at home. He wore it in the car, all the way home from the store. I thought he would try to sleep in it the first night. I think he's going to love his costume. 

Furniture Stores are Really Just Indoor Playgrounds

My children love a furniture store. So many couches and beds to try, so many pieces of modified gymnastics equipment. Really, what's not to love?

When Dave recently suggested we stop at Rooms To Go to spend our gift cards from last year's Black Friday sale, I reminded him: "You know how much they love a furniture store, right? Be prepared."
 

When we got there, I prepared for the climbing and testing on nice clean furniture by scrubbing their hands and faces with baby wipes before we left the car. I was just imagining grimy little hand prints all over white mattresses. Ick. 

As we entered the store the race was on to see how many things could they sit on in the time we were there. Dave looked at furniture while I herded children and played. Thankfully, we never found the kid section to see if they had bunk beds, so we didn't have any ladder climbing in the mix. But we had plenty of this.  

 

Luke, trying out a chair.

And this.

Ella, on a bed at the same time.

And this. Luke patted the bed he was lying on and told me, "Night-night me, Mommy!" So we all night-nighted together.

Night-Nighting each together.

And finally, there was this.

Oh my heart.

At the end, when it was time to leave and Luke was missing, Dave found him climbing into another bed, pulling up the covers, about to take a nap for real. Because he does that - asks for naps and then takes them. (A point that still amazes me, two years in.)

We didn't buy anything but we had a great time at the indoor playground.

Bickering

Now that Luke has lots of words and they are becoming more understandable by the day, he and Ella are starting to bicker and their arguments are consisting of more than her bossing him around while he yells, "No!" and vice versa.

They both woke up happy this morning, so the bickering entertained me instead of making my right temple throb like my eyeball might pop out of my head. I've mentioned before that Dave and I enjoy a good argument for the sake of entertainment; it seems that our children do, too.

As we walked out the front door, Ella stopped in her tracks and said, "Oh! It's so foggy out here!" Then this commenced.
Luke: (right behind her) It's boggy out dere!
Ella: No! FOGgy! (emphasis on the first syllable)
Luke: Boggy!
Ella: FOGgy!
Luke: Boggy!
Ella: Uhg! (stomping to the car)
Luke: (bent at the waist as if leaning toward the fog and waving happily) Hewwo bog!

He can't say the "f" sound yet and I'm not sure if he even knows what fog is, but he greeted it enthusiastically.

"This is the day the Lord has made; We will rejoice and be glad in it." - Psalm 118: 24

Hard at Work on the Campaign Trail

Our little family has been working hard to campaign for Judge Jill Ganus (District Judge, Jefferson County - Bessemer Division) - that means that we've been attending street festivals and passing out flyers and popsicles while eating way too much junk food, buying too many junk toys, and socializing. It's been really fun.

Pause for a political plug:
Judge, as we affectionately call her, is Bessemer's Family Court judge, where Dave spends a significant amount of his time. While she only hears cases in the Bessemer division, she will be on the ballot for all of Jefferson County in November. If you are a Jefferson County resident, we hope you will vote for her because she is passionate about the families and children she sees every day and she's doing good work. Check out her website for more information.
End political plug.


125th Annual Whistle Stop Festival



We spent Saturday afternoon at the Whistle Stop Festival in Irondale. The festival is 125 years old, but this was our first time and it was cool. The main stage is set up in front of the railroad tracks and 4 city blocks are roped off for vendors and foot traffic. The whole afternoon, we listened to music and watched the trains roll by. Luke loved it. 



There were lots of things for the kids to do. They ate and ate. They jumped, they got paper train conductor hats - which Luke wore all day like it was his job. They played with their friends. They got positively disgusting, running around with bare feet on the street, covered in spilled snow cone syrup. I hope they didn't tarnish the judge's image with their filthiness.





Jumping Luke



Jumping Ella.



Riding in the Little Red Caboose

Wearing their conductor hats.

Having lunch at the campaign tent.

We brought a bag of toys for back up entertainment.

Raspberry is her favorite snow cone flavor. Blech.

Luke prefers Tiger's Blood. It's fitting.

Socter Ball!

Despite the fact that some people think soccer is a communist sport, we love it. We love the organized sport aspect of it, the socialization, the lessons about team work and sportsmanship, and the sheer physical activity it requires. Dave and I both feel like soccer is a good foundational sport for any of the other sports the kids might want to play later, so we intend for both of them to play until they aren't interested anymore or decide to try something else instead. (We feel the same way about gymnastics. That's why Ella does both and Luke will, too, as soon as he's old enough for soccer.)

Grandma has been taking pictures at the games this year, so I thought I would share a few. She got some really good ones!

I tried to catch this first picture all spring, but Grandma finally got it.

She's pretty good at kicking.

I'm really proud of how hard she works in practice. My expectation in everything she does is that she work hard. 

She is much more comfortable during the games this season.


Taking a breather.

Dave decided to help with the coaching this time and he's loving it. Ella really likes having him as a coach, too.

Water break.

In addition to soccer, he has taught the kids to chew straws while they wait for their turns to play. I looked over at them last weekend and he and four kids were lined up with coffee straws hanging out of their mouths.

Coach Dave

Saturday mornings are a family affair. Grandma and Pop the Pop and Grandmother and Papa are there.

Pop the Pop and Luke

 Even Aunt Becca, Uncle Nate, and Jake come to watch.

Jake can't wait until he can play.

Sometimes we steal borrow other kids' balls to play catch during the breaks.

Luke loves socter.

 And sometimes we just relax and watch the game.

He's still my baby.

Around the House

More quotes to showcase their enthusiasm, development, and the truly deplorable state of my car. But first, a classic line from Dave.

"When you wear your glasses and use your work voice, you're kind of scary." - Dave, after watching me attend a conference call from home. My response? After a fit of laughter, "Good, that's what I want them to think."

One night when Luke was randomly pitiful with a 102 degree fever, Ella brought out her doctor kit and gave him an exam. Then she broke the bad news: "Luke has a two-eye virus." I was very concerned and asked her to elaborate, and she informed me that she didn't have anymore answers but she would call Children's Hospital to find out.

While on the phone with Grandmother one day, checking in on the hooligan shenanigans, I overheard Luke run into the room and announce: "Mess!" When Grandmother asked him, "What mess?" He led her to the playroom where she found a broken picture frame and shards of glass on the floor. Though I suspect he had something to do with the breaking of it, I was proud that he told Grandmother so she could clean it up.

"Mmmmm. I wuv Tool-Aid!" - Luke, when he saw me get the Kool-Aid pitcher out of the fridge. He wuvs me, too, a lot, these days - squishing his face to mine or squeezing me in a hug. I love the love and his enthusiasm.

"No way! I wanna tuddle!" - Luke, asking for a cuddle at bedtime when I gave up on getting him to be still and rolled over with my back to him. After he agreed to be still, I rolled back over to spoon him and he was knocked out in 30 seconds. It's just so hard to let go of the day at bedtime sometimes.

While working from home recently, I was sitting on the couch with my laptop and Luke was nestled in beside me with a book. I was instant messaging with a co-worker in India and we decided to have a phone conversation over the computer (think Skype without the video). The phone rang and I answered it, my coworker's voice came through the computer speakers, and both kids perked up, wanting to know who I was talking to. Luke was engrossed in my conversation for about two minutes, then he decided he needed me to pay attention to him again. He leaned toward the laptop and said to my coworker, "I'm readin' books! S'muse me!" It really is difficult to have a work conversation with kids in the house.

And finally, upon getting in the car one morning this week, Ella informed me, "It smells like stinking cheese in here." She was right. Interestingly, I finally tracked the stench back to her own carseat, though I have not the vaguest recollection of what she may have spilled in it to make it smell like stinking cheese.

A Paradigm Shift

There's been a paradigm shift in my house. The child who has always been challenging is less so, and the child who has always been easy is not right now.

I was quite surprised recently when I discovered how very easy it is to have 4 year old Ella around the house when Luke isn't there. He spent the night at Grandmother's by himself for the first time ever, and Ella was home with us. It was so easy! I was so amazed that I told my sister and her response was, "Duh. I've been knowing she is the easier one right now for a while."

Of course she has. She's had the Luke-free evening experience with her a few times when Ella spent the night at her house. Until just a few weeks ago, I had not had an evening with just Ella in the house since before Luke was born. My how she's changed since then! She played by herself in her room until supper, ate, showered, read books with me, and went to bed. It was quiet. There was no yelling. She's almost entirely self-sufficient.

When did this happen?

Apparently while we've been wrangling the wild beast that is the most recent version of her brother.

Since turning two, he has fully embraced The Tantrum Phase of Independence. But you know the story, right? He wants to do everything by himself, he thinks he can do everything by himself, but he really can't yet. "No!" means no, except when it means yes - and that is often because "No!" is the default answer to everything. He wants to make his own decisions by himself, but he makes them so impulsively, they're often wrong. And who's fault is that? Mine. Because of course I should know that when he picked the Piglet cup he really wanted the Pluto one.

He's defnitely in that place where he needs lots of time and space to practice his independence. Dave and I are in the midst of a refresher course on the intricacies of toddlerhood - distractions and redirections and choices and transitions and time-ins.

He is a sweet, funny, loving, enthusiastic little spirit trapped in a frustrated toddler mind and body. It's rough on him. It's rough on us.

He wants so badly to play soccer, on the team, with the other kids. He tells me about it all the time. "I wanna play socter." He's too young; he can't play until he's 3. For a whole year, he'll be too young.

He wants to get on the balance beam and race across it by himself like the older kids. While he's physically capable of running on a 4 inch beam, he isn't mentally focused enough to do that yet.

He wants to tell us when he's feeling really mad or slighted, but he lacks the self-discipline to do that with his words.

His will is strong and his intent is generally good, but he is limited by his own development. His physical and emotional maturity will catch up with his will eventually, but until then, we have our work cut out for us. At the end of it, we'll have another confident, self-sufficient four year old. But you know what  they say about sausage - it's good, but you don't want to watch the making of it. Toddlerhood is the sausage-making of a four year old, and it's not for the faint of heart.

Riding with Ella

One morning when Ella and I were alone in the car on the way to a doctor's appointment downtown, she reminded me to stop and look at the world around me.

As we drove through the UAB campus, she asked me about the buildings and why the dragon on the signs has fire coming from his mouth. I explained that UAB is a college, like Montevallo, and that the dragon is their mascot and he breathes fire out of his mouth because they are called the UAB Blazers. Then she asked me, "Mama, do they have a real dragon in there?" I assured her, "No, they do not, but they do have a medical school and a dental school, where people go to learn to be doctors and dentists." That day, she wanted to be a doctor.

Interjection: On a different day, we saw my recently-graduated pharmacist cousin working in the pharmacy at Publix. On the way home, she asked me a bunch of questions about what my cousin does at Publix, and then she made a little moaning noise. I asked her what was wrong and she responded, "It makes me want to be a pharmacist." Right on.

Back to our trek through Southside: As we were passing by the appartments on University Boulevard where there is a mural painted on the retaining wall, we had this conversation.

Ella: Someone painted that wall, Mama!
Me: (Mistaking her excitement for indignation and preparing to explain) Yes, they did -
Ella: It's so beautiful!

Oh. Yes.

It is beautiful, with animals and children playing; color breaking up the gray of the city street. So many things are beautiful, so many things that I pass right by without even noticing. So many things that my four year old does notice. That same day, she pointed out some really pretty flowers planted alongside highway 280.

I never know what she is going to see that I would ordinarily miss. I love riding in the car and listening to her while she watches the world go by. She asks good questions and points out things that I take for granted. I learn so much.

Four year old eyes have such a fresh perspective of the world.

Remembering September 11

September 11, 2001 - I was a college junior; twenty years old, still mostly consumed in my adolescent self-centeredness. I was asleep in my bed in the dorm, recovering from the grueling (emotional, exciting, exhausting) experience of sorority recruitment. It was the day after Bid Day and I intended to sleep for most of it.

Then the phone rang. It was Dave. He never called in the mornings, so I knew something was wrong. It was a very short conversation: "Have you seen the news? Get up and turn on the TV."

I went across the hall to the chapter room (our common area on the sorority hall) and turned on the TV. He had to explain to me what was happening because I just couldn't get my head around it. Then I watched as United Airlines flight 175 crashed into the South Tower. And I continued to watch the news for the rest of the day and the tower fell, the Pentagon was hit, the plane crashed into a field in Pennsylvania. Classes were cancelled, though some professors were there with TVs tuned to the news if you wanted to stay and watch. I didn't. I needed the relative privacy of the dorm.

I remember feeling wide-eyed with shock. For the first time in my life I understood what it felt like when history is made, when text books get revised and the course of a nation changes forever. I finally understood the definition of terrorism.

I remember the horror of watching the tower fall, of seeing the people being thrown or jumping from the windows, of the people in the streets covered in ash.

I remember feeling sympathy for the president, newly inauguarated after a hard-fought campaign and the drama of a recount in Florida, and there he was, addressing the country and scrambling, I'm sure, to figure out what should happen next.

I couldn't comprehend the magnitude of the impact on our transportation systems, our economy. The New York Stock Exchange shut down for a week. Air travel stopped for two days. The entire nation stood still in shock.

Later that week I attended a candlelight vigil on campus and I bought a copy of Newsweek with the Twin Towers aflame on the cover. That magazine is still in my keep box.

Weeks later, I was looking through some pictures from a trip I took in highschool and I found one I had taken from the plane of the NYC skyline, Twin Towers intact. I've never spent more than an layover in NYC, but I'm glad I have that picture.

I decided to write this today because I want to make sure I never forget where I was that day and how I felt while watching that horror unfold on live television. I want to make sure that my children understand that 9/11 isn't just an event they will read about in their history books - it was real and people died and an entire nation came to its knees that day.

Port Removal: I nearly fainted.

Nurse: Are you a fainter?
Dave: No.
Doctor: She wasn't talking to you. You can faint if you need to, you're in a recliner.
Me: She was talking to me. If I faint, there will be problems. I think I need to sit down.

That conversation took place while Dave had his port removed last week. I accidentally saw too much while the doctor was giving him shots to numb the area, but I did realize I needed to sit down before my vision went black around the edges. I didn't faint, but judging by the hideous headache I had for the rest of the day, I came pretty close.

While I didn't intend to watch any of the procedure, I happened to be looking at the port when the first shot went in without warning. Then Dave was really uncomfortable, so after all the blood letting and shot giving I've seen in the last few months, I thought I could handle watching the shots long enough to tell him when that part was over. I was wrong.

I can look at blood and cuts and bodily fluids. I can take care of all those things. It didn't bother me to prick my finger four times a day to check my blood sugar during my last pregnancy. But I cannot handle seeing needles in skin, especially not my skin, but not anyone else's either. God willing, I will never have to self-administer shots of any kind (but I'm sure God will equip me if I do).

So, I really am not a fainter, as long as I'm not looking when the needle goes in. And usually I just get a little light-headed if I do see it. Though I've come close a few times, I've only flat out fainted once.

I was a junior in high school when I gave blood for the first time at the SGA blood drive. I did great, looking everywhere but at the needle in my arm. It didn't hurt. I was just chilling on the little bed-table, pouring out some blood. Then I got distracted and looked down at my arm right before the tech took the needle out. I thought I was okay. I was, afterall, lying down. Then I stood up.

Or so they told me. I don't remember my feet ever touching the floor. The next thing I remember is the nurse and the cute boy who caught me leaning over me, asking if I was okay.

I was, of course, and I was okay on port removal day, too, once I sat on the doctor's stool, well below his work area so there was no risk of me seeing anything else I didn't need to see.

The port came out of an incision directly over the one it went into, and then Dave was sewed up again with dissolvable stitches and steri-tapes. He's finished. He doesn't even have to go back to the surgeon for a follow up. The whole deal took about 20 minutes.

Dave says he feels official now. Officially, done with cancer, chemo, and foreign objects in his body.

And to that I say: Amen.

Luke's Day of Labor

Dave and I were off work for Labor Day so we decided to spend the day with his brother and sister-in-law in Gardendale. We went to their house for lunch and stayed most of the day playing and sorting through Nana's pictures. The kids love to play there because they have big dogs, lots of toys, and good snacks. Aunt Jessica is a chip eater, just like Ella. She even bought them "cheese tuffs" to eat with their "ot dogs" this time.

About halfway through the day, while we were outside playing, Luke randomly announced that he wanted to use the potty. I've never heard him say that other than when one of us was using the bathroom, so that was weird in itself. Jessica told him she had a special potty seat he could use and we went inside to see about it.

That child got so excited about the "Melmo" (Elmo) potty seat. For nearly an hour he worked on mastering getting the seat from the closet, putting it on the big potty, climbing up, wiping, flushing, and putting the seat away again. All by himself. Over and over. Seriously, I started rationing the toilet paper. He did actually pee in the potty at one point, which was shocking and exciting for both of us, this being his very first time.

Once we finally wrapped up that activity and got back to playing, he announced again that he needed to potty. I took him back in and we went through the whole routine a few more times. This time we didn't quite make it in time, but who cares? This is the most interest he's ever expressed in a potty. I decided that we would stop at Target on the way home and get a Melmo potty seat for our house.

When we got home, I got it out and gave it to him. He did the rest, putting it on his potty and getting up there by himself. He played and played on the potty. Then he brought the seat to the living room because he was just so excited about it. He told Dave he needed to potty, and sat down on it in front of the TV and peed in his diaper. Again, who cares? Sitting on the potty seat to potty, even in a diaper, is a step in the right direction.

Yes, that's a potty on his head.

After his bath, he decided to use the potty again - the actual potty with the Melmo seat on it. Knowing he would be there a while, practicing, I left him in Dave's charge so I could finish helping Ella get ready for bed. I heard Dave asking if he was ready to get a diaper and then suddenly they both came running into the kitchen to find me - Luke crying and Dave excited. He had pooped in the potty and Dave got so excited that it scared Luke.

We all, even Ella, gathered around the toilet to have a look, give each other high fives, and let him flush and wave bye-bye to the poop. It was like a slightly twisted version of the goldfish funeral scene from The Cosby Show.

He was so very proud of himself. So proud that I thought he would never go to sleep. But he did, and for the first time ever with me lying beside him, he went to sleep without nursing at bedtime.

Two major milestones in one day.

Afterward, Dave and I were discussing how we hope these breakthroughs mean he's about to ease off his recent reign of terror. (Milestone phases are hard - on toddlers and parents.) Then the next morning, he refused to sit on the potty and he refused to take off his race car pajama pants to get dressed for school. Well, he would have willingly taken them off to trade them for Melmo pajamas, but it wasn't Pajama Day at school nor was it 50 degrees outside, necessitating long-sleeved pajamas, so we ended up in our regular diaper/clothes changing wrestling match.

But who cares? At least he didn't grow up overnight like I feared he might.

Ella's New Hair

For a couple of months now, Ella has been talking about getting her hair cut to shoulder length. She even picked this picture out of a magazine. I took a picture of it, mostly to appease her, and so that we'd have it in case we decided to get her hair cut.

This is the hair Ella wanted.

Dave and I talked about it and decided we weren't ready to get her hair cut yet. (Yes, we seem to have an issue with cutting our children's hair.) I talked to Ella about it and told her I wasn't ready yet and that if we cut it, we couldn't do the fun things with it that she likes to do - like pigtail balls and braids. She was okay with that but she kept talking about it anyway.

Meanwhile, I kept happening accross the picture in my phone and it struck me how very perfect the cut would be for Ella's hair. It amazes me sometimes how well the child knows herself. A couple of months passed and I started feeling okay with the haircut idea. I know all that hair is hot for soccer and gymnastics. We spend a lot of time untangling it, even with conditioner and detangling spray. I started thinking that maybe we should just let her get it cut.

Saturday morning while we were watching them play, the topic came up again when I commented that it was time for her to have a trim. I showed Dave the haircut she wanted again. He was okay with it, too, so he asked if she wanted to get it cut. Of course she did!

Her hair was past her arm pits when it was dry and about halfway down her back when wet. It varies from straight and full to ringlets, depending on the weather. This day, it was somewhere in between the two.

Before the haircut.

The lady cut about four inches off and layered it. She was quite impressed with the haircut Ella picked out.


This picture doesn't do justice to the amount of curl she has.

Despite the expression in this picture, she absolutely loves it. In addition to this being her first real haircut, it was also the first time she got really irritated at me for acting like a complete Mom and taking too many pictures. That's what you see on her sweet face. Irritation.

She was so over me taking pictures at this point.

With the weight off, her hair is even curlier now than it was before. It's spunky and sassy and it fits her perfectly. It was fun to watch her relish it all weekend. A few times I caught her lifting her face to the wind savoring the way her hair blew off her neck. She was excited to have her "new hair" washed the first time and it's been so easy to brush.

We got two important life lessons out of it.
1. On the way into church Sunday morning, neither of the men who were standing outside to greet us commented on it. As we walked to her class, she said, "They didn't understand about my new hair." I reassured her, "It's okay, most of the time boys just don't recognize when you have new hair."

2. While I cuddled her in bed Saturday night, I told her that I thought she picked out a great haircut that was perfect for her kind of hair. She said, "But I still don't have the eyes." I asked what she meant. "The eyes like the lady in the picture." I told her it didn't matter that she didn't have the lady's eyes because she has her own - the eyes God gave her that make her special. It fit perfectly with her Bible verse from last week.

"I am wonderfully made."  - Psalm 139:14

Young Adult Cancer and Fertility

Fertility preservation/awareness is a topic of conversation that is unique to adolescent and young adult (AYA) cancer patients because they are either entering or in the middle of their child-bearing years. It’s also a topic that you probably wouldn’t even think about unless you found yourself walking down the path of cancer treatment and, hopefully, someone along the way mentioned it. That’s why I’m writing about it; so young people will know.


The issue of fertility with chemotherapy jumped onto my radar when I was researching Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma and found some warnings about preventing pregnancy while undergoing cancer treatments. Dave’s oncologist never asked us about family planning or mentioned the risks of chemo on a pregnancy; and, that really didn’t surprise me since most of the patients he treats are well beyond their child-bearing years. As I dug deeper into the topic, I found out some other interesting bits of information that are worth sharing.

~ For women, chemotherapy and radiation often induce menopause depending on the kind of treatment and location of the cancer.

~ Even if the treatment doesn’t induce menopause, it most likely alters the genetics of the maturing eggs, so pregnancy should be prevented during and for at least 6 months after treatment.

~ Doctors recommend that a woman wait 2 – 5 years after completing treatment before becoming pregnant so that her body has time to recover and the chance of a cancer relapse is significantly less.

~ Chemotherapy and radiation also cause infertility in some men.

~ Doctors recommend that men prevent pregnancy for 2 years after completing cancer treatment because chemotherapy and/or radiation can genetically damage the sperm and they believe that damage probably repairs itself within 2 years.

The good news is that programs are available to help young adults understand their options and, in some cases, offer financial assistance for fertility preservation. Fertile Hope, a part of the LIVESTRONG foundation, is one such program (and also the source of the above information). Check out the website for more information.

Because this topic is intensely personal and I am unwilling to discuss our decision-making in this public forum, I recommend this blog post for additional perspective. The author is a 22 year old woman with Leukemia and I’ve been reading her blog for a while.

Life, Interrupted: A Young Cancer Patient Faces Infertility