My Poor, Sweet, Happy Boy

Johnny was just diagnosed with a "severe" (docs word, not mine) peanut allergy. How did we know to get him tested for it, you ask? We didn't. He was at the allergist to be checked for a sensitivity to dairy - the kid is still mostly on formula and no yogurt or cheese, blah, blah, blah. He has a mystery dairy threshold where, if we cross it, he starts spitting up nasty, curdled stuff. The smell is nauseating. Ainsley actually threw up the other day, right after he did, because it was so gross. Anyway, because he has always had eczema and more-than-normal-amounts of coughing, the doctor ordered the test for the basics: wheat, animals, dust mites, egg, etc. The irony is that Johnny was not found to be allergic to dairy (just a sensitive stomach - not sure where to got with that), but the peanut test went bonkers on his broad, chubby back. Poor little guy.

My first reaction was, unfortunately, "Awww Man! You have GOT to be kidding me!" because peanut butter is one of Ainsley's staples in her diet. IV is already lowest on her list in our cast of characters; she doesn't need another reason to keep him in the permanent doghouse. My second reaction was much more maternal, as in "Thank you, God, for allowing us to discover this the easy way". I had been waiting on introducing full-on peanut butter for another couple months because our pediatrician strongly encourages it. I am so thankful I did not have to call 911 over a sandwich.

And so we begin our journey into reading ingredient lists, epi pens, and neurotic parental protective behavior. Any advice is appreciated.

Adding To The Resume

John went on a field trip for work this week and learned:
1. how to climb a telephone pole
2. how not to electrocute himself whilst climbing said pole.

Luckily for you and me, he had the foresight to document his adventure...

Pre-Climb and lookin' hot! No, really. There's nothing like a guy in a flannel shirt to give a girl the vapors.

Notice the telephone pole forest (John's words) in the background. It looks like a scene from one of those logging competitions. Only those guys don't use ladders.

That's my man! I love the wave.

I Am So Weak

I was recently sick enough for long enough to decaffeinate myself. Trust me when I say it was not by choice. I just couldn't drink anything except water and an occasional 7-up. That said, I love, love, love my cuppas and soda. I love the smell of coffee grounds and of warm milk. I love the bubbles from fountain drinks. I super-love sweet tea.

I wasn't always this way. 10 years ago when I was going through a neurotic/psycho phase with our infertility, I gave up caffeine and soda of any kind because I read somewhere that it could hinder pregnancy. What a joke. I'm pretty certain my 2 cups of java/day had nothing to do with anovulation. I think I went at least 5 years without caving (except at track meets where coaches get a free lunch and oh, the temptation of real Coke!), and then Ainsley was born and I gave in (came to my senses) and indulged.

When the triplets eventually went on straight-up formula, I started caffeinating again in a big way. Coffee in the morning, soda in the afternoon. It was necessary for my survival.

Anyway, after my recent encounter with the bubonic plague I thought I could hold out and not start up with my addiction again. It is healthier to not drink the stuff (at least loaded w/half-and-half like I do). Soda is terrible for the body. I am weak, though. John makes coffee every morning and it smells lovely. So I had a wee bit yesterday morning. I had even more of a wee bit today.

I am a lost cause. I am not strong. I must_have_coffee.

Maybe I just won't drink soda ever, ever, ever again.

Right.

A Shout Out

We were very, very fortunate to have so much volunteer help when the crumbgobblers arrived. It's crazy to think how we had at least one person/day come over for an hour or two the first two or three months to help. They held, fed, and bathed the triplets. They played with Ainsley, which was sometimes even more appreciated. They cleaned my kitchen. They made bottles. They let me shower. While I do not miss those months at all and hope the memories go away someday, I do miss the conversations and relationships that were built. There were many times when I would go days without stepping foot outside and this awesome group of women (and a few guys) kept me reasonably sane.

We still have a devoted few who come by every week to hang out. STILL! They are my main interaction with the world and I covet their friendship and love for my family. They have experienced me at my very worst and maybe at my very best They are wonderful examples of what a servant's heart looks like and my hope is that someday I can help someone else as I have been.

A shout-out to our friends has been necessary for quite awhile and I'm not sure why I've put it off. Maybe it's because I'm afraid to miss someone. I wish I had pictures of everyone, but pictures were low on the priority list for those first few weeks of survival. Anywho, I'll do my best and please forgive me if you aren't on the list. In no particular order:

Liz and her son, Colin (college friend and pediatrician who I call about nearly everything)

Christine (neighbor/friend), still comes for "Triplet Tuesday"

Kellie - old high school friend

Annie - old high school friend who has been beyond generous (as has her entire family)

Miss Dianne - still lets us come around every week

Pack and Bean - friends and still going to Costco for us. Love those wipes!

Joan w/IV at the baptism. Friend and neighbor who still rescues us every day.

Fooz! Of course! I dread the day she tires of us...

Uncle Bob. So generous to us and certainly helps keep John sane.

War Eagle Family. What would we do without you??
Philip - still hanging in there and one of Ainsley's buddies. Thank you.

Those I don't have decent pictures of: Rachael and Frenchie, Janet, Pat, Genevieve, The Zells, The Cagles, Graham, Susie, Christie, and lots and lots more. Thank you all. I am a better mother because of you.

Hey!

I just realized my 100th post just came and went! That's sort of exciting...I think? Am I supposed to be yippee-skippy about that? (as my friend, Joan, would say)

RSV

I just found out about a baby of some acquaintances who is currently hospitalized with RSV. I can't imagine what the parents are going through and pray their child recovers quickly and without permanent lung damage.

We got some flack from people-who-will-remain-nameless about keeping our babies crazy-isolated the first few months. It was frustrating and maddening and discouraging, but I still don't care that they thought we were hyper-protective. We were very, very fortunate to have a doctor who went to bat with the insurance company to get the kidlets qualified for the Synagis shots and to have most friends and family at least fake understanding our 4 months of quarantine. We had a circle of about 10 people who were allowed to hold our kids and I am forever thankful for them.

So, word to the wise: do not give your friends or relatives grief if they're freaking out about RSV. Do not make them feel guilty. Do not question.

My Husband Is Awesome

Some horrible virus has invaded my body the last 4 days and does not seem to want to leave. Fever, grossness, aches, blah, blah, blah. Feeling more than blah. It's like blah to the infinity plus one.

John has done more than step up to the plate. He's been hitting homers every day since Thursday and without the benefit of steroids (take that, A-Rod!).

I'm going back to bed.

One So Happy, One So Perplexed

So I had 2 kids urinate on my floor yesterday. How did that happen, you ask? Well, I deserved the first one. Johnny loves, Loves, LOVES to be nakie. He knows he is not allowed and as soon as he takes off his pants and diaper, he beats the feet, laughing, away from me. Anyway, it was right before lunch and they were all DYING of hunger, climbing up and hanging onto my pants, sobbing, when he decided to create toxic waste. I can't handle smelling that for 30 minutes, so a change was necessary. While I was occupied, Gracie saw her chance and was digging through the chemicals under the sink (of course I had forgotten to lock the cabinet). I wasn't in the mood for a poison victim, so Johnny was allowed for all of 1 minute to run around with only his diaper. That meant: diaper off, happy boy, happy-laughing-fountain creating boy, peeing all over the kitchen floor. Where the girls were. The girls thought urine looked fun to play with. It was lots of fun trying to clean up liquid and block 2 kiddos from splashing in it (thankfully Johnny took off to avoid clothing).

How did it happen again? After they smeared their lunch in their hair, which most babies do, they needed a bath. This is good, because baths make them happy and give us something fun to do during the long stretch between naps. I like baths. They make me happy, too. Lizzy was stripped, waiting to be put in the tub, when I noticed she was bent over, looking down at her legs, obviously concerned about whatever was happening all over the floor. Nice.

This happens to lots of parents, I know, and it has happened to me throughout the years. Gracie has peed on the carpets a few times (airing out from her frequent diaper rash). It just hadn't happened twice in one day yet. It's all good and lots of other people got to laugh about it. I actually didn't mind.

Fired Up

I just got back from my favorite grocery store and, while I am not surprised at what happened, it was still maddening.

It was almost a great errand. It is a luxury to shop without the kids and I was able to take my time, stroll the aisles, not forget that one ingredient I would need for dinner tomorrow night, etc.

Anyway, I have a love/hate relationship with the baggers at my store. The daytime baggers are these wonderfully sweet retirees who smash my purchases. I'm aware the following is one of my quirky things, but I even organize my groceries into the groups they ought to be bagged in when I unload the cart. Veggies together, canned goods together, boxed items, meat, it's everything but labeled for these kind gentlemen. It doesn't matter. My bread is squished with the canned goods, the meat bagged with the fruit. It is vexing, but forgiven because they are always nice and chatty to the kids, give them stickers, and offer at least twice to help me to the car. One time, one of them even followed me out anyway when I declined his aid (we have a car-loading system and I don't mess with it).

Now, the afternoon/night kids are wonderful baggers (my purchases are never mangled) and horrible workers. Most of the time they wander the parking lot, texting randoms while they search for a lone cart to justify their trip outside. There is one nice boy who works there. He even walks back and puts my groceries on the belt - his parental units must be raising him well. I've never seen him loafing. That aside, tonight I bagged my own groceries (no biggie) because the baggers were busy cart-herding outside. They must have felt it critically necessary, in case the 8 customers in the store would start brawling over the 99 million carts already inside. I paid, got to my car, and the flunkies were still wandering about, gathering (no lie) the 4 carts. I counted.

Fine.

One of the I-can't-believe-they-were-born-after-I graduated-highschool "courtesy clerks" started to walk in with her one cart when the other said "Hey, wait up just a bit". They then proceeded to do nothing, leaning on their carts, right next to me, while I unloaded a full buggy. What were they doing? They were waiting to take my cart. Did they offer to help? Nope. Were they at least discussing calculus? Nope. Should their parents be thrilled their child has:
1. no work ethic (yes, I realize it is only bagging/cart gathering, but it is still a job)
2. no manners
3. no ability to think about other people?
Nope.

As I write this I'm realizing I shouldn't be this annoyed. Lawd help my kids, though, if I find out they act like total slackers.

Hooray!

Lizzy took her first, real, honest-to-goodness, big girl steps tonight! Not the kind where the kid is planted in front of you and they sort of run/fall into your arms (although that is nice, too). They were the kind where there was one little step, a pause to regain balance, another step, then a pause to check balance. John and I just about died. Her mouth was so wide open with joy. I know I have never seen her more happy and obviously impressed with herself. It was as if she was almost in shock.

Considering the worries (legitimate or not) that we have with her, this is huge. Absolutely huge.

I wish I had a picture of her face from the actual event, but this will have to do. Just imagine the smile and eyes even bigger.

Just Wondering

Instead of eating, the kidlets seem to prefer swiping the majority of the food off their trays. However, they do like to eat the swiped food off the floor before I get it cleaned up (hence the name "crumbgobblers"). The question of the day is, should I just throw their meals directly on the floor and not bother with high chairs? It would certainly save some clean-up time...