playing and politics

Wow, only two posts in February, eh? I'm reaching new slacker lows here. Obviously I'm spending way too much time watching Fuller House doing really important stuff. 

Me too. I keep pretty busy, as you can see. This room isn't just gonna trash itself!

My job is completely insane right now and it leaves me too exhausted to come home and put words together in any sort of an intelligible fashion (for either talking or blogging, ha). Luckily, Millie doesn't mind if my conversational/writing skills aren't completely up to par. Homegirl is all about PLAYING these days. Just try and stop her.              

I mean, sometimes I stop to feed my babies.

It seems that four years of listening to NPR has finally paid off and I actually care about politics for once. Too bad that's a SUPER DEPRESSING SITUATION right now. I took Millie with me to vote today (side note: a hell of a lot of good that did us. WHY IS GEORGIA SO STUPID??? See also: Trump wins in Georgia by a landslide. All sane people planning their imminent moves to anywhere where logic and decency still prevails. Like possibly the moon.). I tried to tell her about how it's important that we vote because it's our chance to participate in democracy, blah blah blah. She could probably see right through me, though. She knows the only thing good about voting is the sticker. And getting to see a fire truck.

Only YOU can prevent psychos from becoming president!! Except, actually it takes a lot more than just you...so never mind, give me a sticker, I gotta go.

We try to get away from all the political drama once in awhile with a little front yard yoga. Millie definitely gets it.          

Downward facing Lola, you say? Got it, Mommy!

Speaking of Lola...she's getting a lot of kisses from her #1 fan these days. But Millie's kind of a fair-weather fan, really. She's either smothering Lola with kisses and pat-pats, or yelling "NO-NUH!!!" in the most accusatory voice you've ever heard, all away across the house, to blame Lola for something she obviously didn't do (pull all the books off the shelf, dump the puzzles out, pull a glass of water off the counter, etc.). It's pretty classic sibling behavior, I guess. Too bad Lola doesn't have a chance to dish it back!

I love you, No-nuh. Except for when I don't.

But for as stressful as work is and as depressing as freaking politics are...this little bit makes it all better. She is SO funny and precious and smart and cuddly and...I could go on with adjectives for days. Her language and ability to communicate improves every single day (probably every single hour) and I never know what she might say or do next. Like this video I took the other night- I definitely did not know she knew the word "bonk," as you can probably hear in my voice!!




She can also perform a variety of facial expressions/emotions on command. I know, I know...I should quit using her for party tricks. I can't help it, though! She's a riot! The world should know!! The world needs something happy right now!

So anyway. That's where we are. Millie is hilarious, the majority of voters in Georgia are insane, and...that's about it. Womp womp, goodnight.

so long, 2015

What is there really to say about 2015, except that it was the best year of my life? It beat 2014 because we had Millie for the ENTIRE year and not just the last five months. And I suspect that 2016 will edge out 2015 for the Best Year Ever title just because there is an extra day (see ya soon, February 29!). And then after that, I'm not sure how I'll judge Best Ever for future years. Only time will tell.

Sure, there were challenging days and hours and seasons, some sicknesses and surgeries and stress, but nothing compares to the pure joy of being a mother to my sweet girl. I will remember 2015 for all of the firsts: first trip to the beach, first food, first words, first birthday. I will remember 2015 as the first year since 2008 that I never once had to wonder whether we would ever be parents. It was magnificent.

2015 won't go down as the year I blogged a lot- check it out, my lowest number of blogs EVER (not including the year I started the blog). But that's okay. It won't go down as the year I got into fantastic shape or got rich or finally wrote a book (hahaha). But it was a year where I devoted every single day to loving my husband and my daughter and working hard at my job and serving as much as I could at my church and reading a lot of good books, and I'm proud of what I did.

Thanks for being so kickass, 2015. Can't wait to see what the next year brings.

As for how we celebrated this turning of the calendar...well, it's been pretty elaborate. Or not.

Millie and I celebrated NYE by dressing in coordinating outfits (totally her idea) to run our errands. She thought the Target dressing room was both magical and hilarious. Obviously because she wasn't the one trying on clothes and being forced to view herself at terrible angles...blarrrgh.

This is so fun, Mommy! I look cute from every direction!

What is this madness? Everywhere I look, THERE I AM!!!!!

While I spent the afternoon cooking for our NYE get-together with friends, Millie spent some time cooking in her own room.

Hmmm...maybe a little more salt.

 And then she did some...reading, let's generously call it.

I just needed to see all of my options at once so that I knew I'd pick the right book (and puzzle).

The most unexpected excitement of the past two days has been the new addition the family.

We have been adopted by a chicken, apparently. 

Hey lady, less pictures, more stale Cheerios, okay?

This gal started hanging around our house yesterday afternoon and apparently likes what she's found. Matt visited a few of our chicken-owning neighbors to try and locate her rightful owners...and DID...but then we (with the help of the owner) couldn't find/catch her (she was back in our woods, which are pretty overgrown and hard to navigate). And then the owner was like "not really worth all this trouble for one chicken, see ya." I'd asked if she had a name (NO-- I mean, seriously. Who doesn't name their chickens?) and how many chickens he had (about TWO HUNDRED. No lie!!! Or so he said, anyway)...so I guess that in the context of having 200 chickens, maybe one isn't such a big deal. Anyway. He didn't seem too concerned about catching it and taking it home, and we couldn't find it, anyway. But then this afternoon...there she was, sitting on our back porch again!

CHICKENNNNNN!!!!!! Hey, CHICKENNNNN!!!! COME TO ME!!!!

So we threw him some leftovers (quinoa and veggie enchiladas...isn't that the normal diet for hens?) and then some stale Cheerios for good measure, and she seemed pretty happy about the whole thing. Happy enough that she "played" with us in the backyard for most of the afternoon, anyway. And by "played" I mean that she didn't run off and didn't peck us, either. About as playful as you get with a big ol' hen, I guess.

So I don't know. Maybe we have a new member of the family. Matt's researching chicken coops and making a list of supplies to buy, so I'm leaning towards thinking that if she's still back there tomorrow (she's very free ranging, you know.), maybe we'll make her a little home. Buy her some feed. Make our little animal-loving Nuggie a very happy girl.

Besides the chicken, Millie found another great love: chocolate fondue.

I want to eat this forever and for always, Mommy.

We brought home some leftover fondue from our party last night. It was a pretty big hit at snack time. Raise your hand if you're surprised.

(Also, I feel like the CEO of Oxyclean should write me a personal thank you note. As much as I buy of that stuff...they must have had a nice Christmas.)

Anyway. The end of 2015 and beginning of 2016 were pretty fantastic. And to wrap things up...just in case you missed this on Instagram...you better check out Millie's attempt at smiling on command. It's pretty much the greatest thing I've ever seen.




Just ignore my obnoxious cackling. I can't help it.

Happy 2016- I hope you find yourself smiling just like Millie an awful lot this year!

neighbor of the year

Maybe you've noticed, but I don't get around to doing weekend recaps (or any sort of recaps, except maybe Millie's monthly updates, really) much anymore. Thus is the plight of the strapped-for-time-and-energy working mom, I suppose. But here it is on Sunday night and I have an hour and I just finished a book and haven't started my next book and what the heck, why not share a few of the more memorable highlights of the last few days?

Please note: "memorable" does not necessarily mean "good." You have been warned.

Since it's summer in Georgia and approximately 3,478 degrees outside for most of the day, I try to go outside with Millie in the mornings and the evenings, when it is perhaps only in the mid-90s and therefore somewhat bearable.

These lantana are delicious, Mom. I love second breakfast!

 We don't have a lot of fun outdoor toys yet, but Millie finds grass and flowers to be pretty amusing, so throw in a few sand toys from the beach and she's a happy camper. 

THIS GRASS!! Seriously, Mom, what kind of seasoning are you using? It's perfection.

The problem with being this adorable is that people never stop kissing you...

She's a really happy camper, though, when the two-year-old from next door sees us outside playing and comes running over. This is also one of my favorite things. I have long entertained visions of my children playing in the yard on long summer evenings with the neighbor kids, the way I played with my neighbors growing up...it was blissful. So when Wyatt recently started noticing Millie walking around and looking generally more interesting than the lumpy baby she used to be, he started yelling across the yards at us: Miiiiwwwwwwiiieeeee!!! Can I pway wif Miwwie?? Miwwie's ball? I can play wif Miwwie's ball? And he comes over and they play and the parents chat and it's really like a dream come true.

Most of the time.

Except for Thursday night. Because on Thursday night, something went terribly awry in our idyllic little summer neighborhood scene.

Wyatt and Miwwie were playing with her ball, and since Millie's defense skills are currently rather lacking, the ball went right past her and rolled into the garage and under our car. Uh oh!!! I get it!!!! Wyatt tells us, running to the garage. His dad follows him and lays down to reach under the car for the bouncy ball. I'm chatting with Wyatt's mom and not paying much attention to either of them as they retrieve the ball, but we both look over when Wyatt walks up to us holding something thin in his hand. I can get the ball with this? he asks, extending his arm towards his mom and me. 

Our garage floor is scattered with the random dried grass and sticks that falls off the bottom of the lawn mower when we drive it back in. So I assumed that what Wyatt had picked up off the floor was some dried up vine or something. As his mom and I moved in closer to look, she shrieked. IS THAT A SNAKE???!

I was about a foot away from my two-year-old neighbor, and as soon as she said it, I knew it was true. It was definitely not a weed wrapped around Wyatt's arm. It was a SNAKE. A very thin black snake. WRAPPED AROUND HIS ARM.

I was the closest adult to Wyatt by about two feet. Therefore I did what the Closest Adult was duty-bound to do.

Stare in shock and horror. A snake. Wrapped around his arm. OH MY GOSH. A snake!! In MY garage!! It's on his arm! Oh, wow! I wonder how it got in here? I wonder what my cat does all day...why didn't it kill it? Is there a mommy snake somewhere? There's a snake on his arm! Ahhh!

Obviously I was far too consumed with my own thoughts to do anything useful, like say GET THE SNAKE OFF HIS ARM.

Yes, I am ready to receive my Most Worthless Adult of the Year award.

Luckily, Wyatt's mom has better Mom Reflexes than I do, and she bravely slapped the snake off his arm. About one second after it bit him.

A SNAKE BIT A TODDLER IN MY GARAGE. It was the worst Thursday night ever. Ugh.

The weird thing is that although four out of four adults were freaking out about the whole Snake Biting Toddler situation, the toddler and the almost-toddler couldn't have been less interested or alarmed. Approximately the same second that the snake bit him and his mom frantically slapped it off his arm, Wyatt noticed my old bike sitting on the driveway (I had pulled it out to clean it off) and walked over to it. Ooohh, a bike!!! Can I touch it?

We spent the next few minutes trying to identify the snake and monitor Wyatt's arm. Thankfully, the snake ended up being a non-poisonous Southern Ringneck, and his arm showed no sign of trauma. They erred on the side of safety and called the after-hours nurse line (they said just to clean with soap and water and watch for signs of infection, but were otherwise unconcerned) and took him over to the fire station to have an EMT look at it (same story). By the following morning, they couldn't even see where the bite was, and so luckily this story has an uneventful ending. He's doing just fine, and they even came back over to play on Friday evening, so I guess they have forgiven me for being the most useless human being on earth ever.

You should probably all stop and say a prayer of thanks that I don't work in any kind of environment that requires the ability to make split-second life-saving decisions and actions. The world would be a scary place. Ugh. I really had no idea I was this bad in a crisis...so I've spent the weekend coming to terms with this new facet of my personality. Ha.

Luckily, Snakegate was pretty much the low point of the week...the rest of the weekend was much less eventful.

 On Friday night, Matt was hanging out with some guys, so Millie and I went on a mommy-daughter date to eat Mexican food. As you can see, it was probably the greatest night of her life. Ha. Actually, we had a lot of fun...this is just what her post-Mexican food coma looks like. She does me proud the way she inhales Mexican food.

On Saturday night Matt and I attended the wedding of a dear friend slash (now-former, waaaahhh) coworker. I had way too much fun getting dolled up (and attempting a fancy braided updo in my hair that you cannot see at ALL in this picture...the only picture I took all night...of course), and the wedding and reception were beautiful (and delicious). I got a new dress for the occasion and I loved it- so much that I'm pretty sure I'll be wearing it again next month for another wedding, ha, so pretend you've never seen it when I show pictures from that wedding, okay? Thanks. 

Oh hey, Mom. I'm cuter than all get out, right?

Four hours of being away from my girl last night was too much, so I've been happy to make up for the lost time today. It's been an uneventful (and snake-free, I might add) day of church and toys and chores and wagons and errands. We introduced good ol' whole milk to Millie's diet today, a few days shy of her first birthday, and so far she's a pretty big fan. She's moved to the one-year-old class at school, and they can't have bottles or formula in there (although they'll give us a little grace period to get her changed over), so I'm glad that she seems to be transitioning fine and not missing her bottles at all. And I'm REALLY excited at the prospect of perhaps never having to buy formula again (for Millie)!! Cha-CHING!$!$!$!

And with that, we head into another week. Birthday week. I have only two days left with a child whose age is measured in months instead of years. It's a little sad, but I can't help but remember how fortunate I am to have a healthy child privileged to celebrate her first birthday. I am currently mourning with my best friend, who will give birth next week to her son who has Trisomy 13. He is not expected to live for more than a few minutes to hours past birth, if he survives childbirth at all. I have mourned and wept with my friends over the past seven months of waiting for this tragedy (while desperately hoping and praying for a miracle) while simultaneously experiencing the joy of watching my own child grow up healthy and strong, and the juxtaposition is just too much sometimes. At any rate, I would appreciate it if you would keep Kristina, James, and their sweet baby Ezekiel in your thoughts and prayers this week. 

gone country

We had such a fantastic holiday weekend. I try not to do a lot of "weekend play-by-play"-type posts, but sometimes it just can't be avoided. I mean, this kind of weekend is what I dreamed of for a whole lotta years. I don't want to forget it.

Since my Nana and Poppie were coming all the way from Texas, my sister (+ husband + baby) came up for the weekend, too. My brother ( + wife + baby) already live in Augusta, so they were around a lot, too. So it was basically like one big long family party all weekend.

We started the party off right- with a Saturday morning hot tub date for the ladies.

You may recall a similar scene at Christmas time (only indoors and with a lot more bubbles)...I guess our interests haven't changed too much! Laney and Millie were thrilled with the hot tub (which we kept at 99 degrees- as in, not very hot) and the chance to swim and play with toys! 

So what if I like to skinny dip? What's it to you?

My brother and his family recently moved out to the country, about 25 minutes away from where they were living. We spent Saturday afternoon out there, introducing Millie to country living. Please imagine a banjo playing while you look at these pictures.

We took a 'buggy ride' down to visit the horse and the chickens. I spent the entire ride grappling with my own hypocrisy regarding car seats and safety and how I just carried my baby in my lap in an open-air vehicle (going about 8 miles an hour across a field, but still). 

Millie was pretty impressed by the chickens. Or maybe just intrigued. Or bored. It's kinda hard to say, really, but at least she didn't cry.

Look, I even got close to them!! Look at me, two feet away from a bird. Country Erika is much braver than regular Erika. Also, cages help.

Later that evening we went fishing. I haven't been fishing in probably 20 years. Matt has never caught a fish!! Not surprisingly, Millie hasn't done much fishing yet, either. In conclusion, we were all really jazzed to head to the pond (on yet another buggy).

While Matt baited up, Millie and I got eaten alive by mosquitoes and played on a blanket. And by "played on a blanket," I mean that she tried to eat all of my discarded (read: snotty) tissues (because buggies kick up dust and grass and allergies) and the bug spray container and completely ignored all of her actual toys. Babies.

No doubt due to my helpful tips, constant encouragement, and pleas to get a win for our family!!!!, Matt caught the first (and HIS first!) fish!

It was very exciting and emotional and Matt was surprisingly squeamish about touching the fish to get it off the line, so that was hilarious. Much to my brother and BIL's disappointment, Matt didn't fall for their claim that the universally-accepted traditional way to celebrate a first catch was to bite the fish's head off and eat it raw. He tossed it back in the pond instead. Oh well. It was still a win for our family.

Millie and Nana were a little wrapped up in each other and missed the whole thing. Nana does a mean "ride little horsey," it seems. Millie was a big fan.

My sister decided to show the boys how it was done and quickly caught two (or three? can't remember) in a row. Thatta girl.

And see my mom back there fishing with my niece's Barbie fishing pole? Yeah. She definitely caught a few using that bad boy!!

After awhile I decided to see if I still had my fishing mojo of the early 90s.

Turns out, I don't. Wah. I might have been the only person who didn't catch a fish. In my own defense, I would like to point out that I think that by the time I started fishing, all the fish had been caught/released and scared away.

Back at the house, we enjoyed some amazing BBQ my brother spent the entire day smoking. Not surprisingly, Millie was his biggest fan.

Not pictured: the moment(s) when she ran out of BBQ on her own plate and (despite having plenty of other foods to choose from) reached down to steal more pork off her cousin's high chair. And when Laney protested, Millie gave her The Look. It was glorious and hilarious and I don't know where she learned to mean mug like that over food...

It really was a perfect weekend. I am so thankful that Millie got to spend time with my grandparents (and her grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins) (and parents!!). I don't take for granted that we even had the opportunity- with a thousand miles and over ninety years separating them, I wasn't sure they'd ever have a chance to meet. What a blessing that it all worked out.

Four generations of the S family, no two people looking in the same direction. Seems about right. Seems about perfect.

not the best weekend

Soo...it's been awhile. I believe when we last chatted, Millie had "finally succumbed to some kind of cold or allergies or virus or Daycare Funk"...to quote innocent and optimistic me of last week. Oh Erika of last week. How naive you were.

Suffice it to say, she didn't just get better as I'd anticipated/hoped. If you're short on time, I'll summarize: since Thursday, she got a lot worse, leading to three trips to the pediatrician and one trip to the hospital so far. We are finally 'out of the woods' as of this morning's pediatrician visit, and she is actually getting better instead of worse. And now I'm sick. Tag, you're it!

I'm going to write out all the boring details, because one day I might want to look back and fondly reminisce about my daughter's first big illness and trip to the ER. Or not. But I'll definitely want to see and remember the adorable pictures of her in her hospital gown that was actually ridiculously cute. 

So Thursday I stayed home with her. It seemed to me that she had just your run-of-the-mill cold. We did lots of saline drops and Nose Frida* (XOXO I love you, Nose Frida. I always thought you would disgust me, but as it turns out, no. I just love you.) and sitting in the steamy bathroom and taking showers. Her eyes were kinda goopy (but not red like she had pink eye) and she started getting this deep, chest-y cough, so I called the pediatrician's office just to see if that was all par for the course, or whether I should bring her in. The nurse there thought that with the chest-cough, it would be worth bringing her in for a quick exam, so we did that. The doctor looked and listened and poked and prodded and agreed that it was most likely just a cold. He said she'd just have to ride it out, to keep doing what we were already doing, and mentioned a few things to watch for that could indicate that some kind of infection/complication was developing, and sent us on our snotty, coughy, merry way.

She was about the same on Friday, so Matt stayed home with her and I went to work. Her coughing fits got worse on Friday and she started gagging up her milk every time she finished a bottle- basically she would start coughing and it would be so violent that it would cause her to just regurgitate everything she'd swallowed. Hot, chunky formula. Yum! She was still basically happy, so we just kept doing our vigilant snot-sucking, steam-breathing routine. 

Overnight, though, her coughing fits started getting worse. It was obvious that they were starting to hurt her- after she'd finish a fit, she would clearly be in pain and upset. I can totally relate- I get bronchitis every freaking year, so I know how badly those deep coughs can hurt your chest. It seemed like that was what she was experiencing. She was decidedly more miserable on Saturday- her breathing sounded rattly and congested and she was spitting up every single drop of formula she swallowed. She also had diarrhea. We tried everything we could think of- giving her only two ounces at a time (still came back up), basically living in the steamy bathroom (while snot-sucking, while Vicks-rubbing), but her breathing continued to sound worse and worse. Our doctor had said to watch to make sure it didn't look like she was struggling to breath, but by midday on Saturday, that's really what it looked like. Her whole stomach and chest were involved in every breath, and she constantly sounded like she'd just run a marathon- nonstop panting. It was obvious that she couldn't take deep breaths. After browsing Baby Center and WebMD, we decided to count her breaths- our sources said that normal breathing would be 30-40 breaths per minute, more than that was concerning, and anything over 60 breaths per minute was dangerous. We counted a few different times (and granted, we're not doctors, so there's a chance that our counts (like, what counts as a breath?) were off) and were getting between 50 and 75 breaths per minute each time. This plus her general wheezy-ness and lack of energy and lack of being able to keep food down made us decide to call the on-call nurse.

The nurse chatted with us for 15 minutes or so, but ultimately decided that we'd basically been doing everything he would recommend, and hearing about her breathing, he decided to page our doctor for us.

Our pediatrician called us back, chatted with us for a few minutes, and said that while he could see her the next morning (Sunday), he really didn't feel comfortable waiting that long. He recommended that we take her immediately to the emergency room to have her breathing monitored. 

If you ever want to feel really panicked and sick to your stomach, try having your pediatrician tell you to take your daughter to the emergency room immediately.

Also, if you ever think "hey, let's move to the country! It'll be great, there will be cows and tractors and clean air!" sounds like a promising idea, please also take into account that if you ever wish to visit an emergency room with your child who is having difficulty breathing, it will take a freaking eternity to drive there. 

We got the the ER and in some strange twist of fate, it was one hundred percent the opposite of what I'd expected. When I think ER on a Saturday night in the midst of a really bad flu season in a college town full of alcohol-poisoned 19-year-olds on a holiday weekend, I have really low expectations. REALLY low. And I'm not sure what happened, but it was probably the most pleasant, efficient, and un-miserable hospital experience I could even imagine. We were seen quickly (probably because infant with breathing trouble, called in by her doctor puts us in front of guy with a twisted ankle in line, but whatever- I'll take it). They almost immediately took us back to triage and got her temp (a low fever, 100.3) and heart rate and whatever else. I told the triage nurse that I would be deliriously happy if this was just a paranoid first-time mom trip and there was not a thing wrong with my baby, but she shot down that idea pretty fast. She's working way too hard to breathe. It's good that you brought her in.

Well, points for not just being a hypochondriac, I guess?

They got us a room and had us change Millie into an adorable gown. I'm sorry. I just couldn't believe how cute she looked in this thing. It didn't hurt that apparently the experience of being at the hospital was fun and exciting for her and she suddenly became super happy and full of energy- like merely walking in the doors helped her feel better or something. Or maybe it was all the lights and new sounds. Whatever- it was wonderful to just see her perk up.

Where are we? What are we doing? Why am I wearing this? LET'S PARTY!

 A doctor came very quickly. I'm not even exaggerating- he was the calmest, most concerned, best listening doctor I've ever met. His bedside manner was off the charts. I have spent the rest of the weekend trying to figure out how I can get him to be my regular doctor (without actually going to the ER every time I have a need). This doctor was on point. He listened to our little health history, took notes about what her pediatrician said on Thursday and over the phone, and did a really great (in my educated opinion, ha) exam on our little panting nugget. He also complimented how cute she was, which is not important, but still appreciated. He agreed that her breathing was concerning, but said it in this way that didn't feel alarming or scary. He ordered chest x-rays, a steroid, and breathing treatments and said we'd reassess after those things happened. He also did a great job of explaining a bunch of things related to why he was ordering these things, which was really helpful, but not really worth repeating here. He also suggested we try to get her to take some Pedialyte, which Matt's parents had already gone to the store to get (the on-call nurse had suggested that, so we were already trying to get some).

Over the next few hours, she got all of those things- chest x-rays (not scary; they let Matt and I hold her up in a sitting position for them...and also gave her this tiny baby loincloth protector thing so that the rays didn't zap her tiny baby ovaries...it was adorable and funny), some Tylenol for the fever (first experience with Tylenol!), a dose of oral steroid (no problem, she was a big fan of all these fruity things in her mouth!), three breathing treatments (good times! She liked the respiratory therapist, I think.), and several ounces of Pedialyte (imagine you've had nothing except breast milk and formula for your entire life...and then you get a bottle of pure, unadulterated fruity sugar water. It wasn't hard to convince her to suck that down!!). A nurse also came and stole some of her snot and boogers via a regular bulb syringe (to send to the lab to test for RSV), and Millie was NOT a fan of that. After a lifetime of comfort and Nose Frida, she found the bulb syringe to be downright offensive.

What is this strange air you make me breathe?

What's next, Mom? I'm game for anything but that bulb syringe!

 I'm guessing it was the combination of Pedialyte, Tylenol bringing her fever (and pain?) down, and 'roids...but Millie quickly turned psychotically happy and adorable. And hyper. And precious. I think that random hospital people were just making up excuses to come in our room and see her.

Sophie? You come to visit me in the hospital? I WILL EAT YOUR FACE!!!

Sophie, you stay right there where I can see you while I breathe this funny air...

P.S. What is it about Sophie? Why do babies like that silly giraffe so much? Also- look how red her cheeks are when she has a fever!! I guess that'll be a good thing to know for future reference! Her cheeks match Sophie's!

Her chest x-ray came back semi-clear (as in, no sign of pneumonia, but did show some thickening mucus in her bronchioles), RSV test was negative, and despite her much happier demeanor, the breathing treatments didn't appear to actually be helping any. The doctor diagnosed her with bronchiolitis and said that since the breathing treatments weren't really helping, there was no reason to continue them or prescribe a nebulizer. He thought that the steroid would help keep her airways open, but that the key for us helping her breathing would be to keep trying to get (and keep) liquids in her, to keep her on Tylenol so that the fever didn't return and further distress her breathing, and to stay vigilant with our snot-sucking. After about 3 hours there, he sent us home and told us to follow up with our pediatrician on Monday- unless she started getting worse, in which case...come right back. Ya think? 

We got home super late and slept the sleep of parents trying to make sure their wheezy baby is breathing...which is to say, not much.

On Sunday morning, our pediatrician called us bright and early. He'd seen the paperwork from the hospital come in and wanted to check on Millie. We told him that she really seemed about the same as she did the night before- still not breathing super great, but at least she'd kept down some Pedialyte through the night. She didn't have a fever, but her cough was still terrible and clearly hurting her. He said that he really wouldn't feel comfortable waiting until Monday to see her and asked if we could bring her in right away. On a Sunday morning. Umm...have I mentioned how much I love our pediatrician?? It is a lot. Yes sir, we'll bring her right in.

He had all of her test results and everything when we got there. He did another physical exam and listened to her chest for a long time. Unfortunately, he agreed that she didn't seem much better than the night before. He did a lot of explaining about how bronchiolas and viruses work, and ultimately declared that Millie was straddling the fence of breathing okay. She was currently just barely on the 'safe' side, but her body was working hard to pull her back to the 'not okay' side. He said that she could easily start improving at any minute, but she was equally likely to take another turn for the worse, and if we saw any sign that she was getting worse, we had to take her immediately to the hospital and he would have her admitted. Until she started getting significantly better, he would want us to bring her in every day to be monitored.

So we returned home with a fresh dose of paranoia and worry. I don't mean to over-dramatize anything, and I certainly recognize that there are children with far more serious health issues- my heart truly goes out to those kids (and parents). I can't imagine the fear and anxiety that you must manage on a daily basis- I was a basket case after only a few days of it. But hearing your doctor talk about your daughter's inability to breathe so seriously like that- I mean, breathing is important. He didn't have to tell us what happens if she loses that ability. I can connect the dots myself. So we kept our hospital bags packed and redoubled our snot-sucking, steam-breathing, liquid-pushing, and breathing-watching. It was...not restful. After awhile, you get fuzzy about how bad/good the breathing is. Her stomach is really pushing and her shoulders are pulling in...I think that's the same thing she was doing at the doctor's office this morning...but is it a little worse? Or better? Or different? Arrrrggghhh!

We made it through another day and night of constant vigilance. She'd have hours where she seemed happier, more energetic, and healthier...and then hours where she seemed to regress again. She did keep down a LOT more liquids than the previous days, though- mostly Pedialyte, but also some diluted formula (per her doctor's instructions). So that made us feel a lot better. The doctor explained that not only would the liquid keep her from getting dehydrated (duh), but it helps keep the mucus thin and not so apt to harden up in her bronchioles, which was the most important thing. So we felt MUCH better since she was finally not spitting everything up.

We woke up this morning and my general 'I feel sorta crummy' had turned into full-blown yuck- really sore throat, ears hurting, bad cough, and lost my voice. So yay. That's two of us down, with Matt coming in runner-up by still not feeling great, but not as bad as the mama and the baby. We went to our daily pediatrician's appointment, and as soon as Dr. G saw/talked to me, he was like "oh, you have croup!" Ummm...cool, I thought that was a disease only babies got. Babies and me! He explained further that they usually just don't call it croup when it's an adult, but it's basically the same. He also used my new sickness (and ability to talk and describe how I feel) to continue his diagnosis of Millie, since we probably have the same thing. Like, since she tested negative for RSV, we know it's not that particular virus causing her issues, so he had a few other likely culprits in mind...but now knowing my symptoms, he was able to eliminate a few more and somewhat conclusively decide what virus Millie has...which is all just fun trivia, anyway, because it doesn't really matter- you treat it all the same, anyway. 

Mommy, do we live here now? Is this our house?

At any rate, although my practiced ear discerned no real difference in her breathing today versus yesterday, Dr. G was much happier with things. He also has the advantage of a stethoscope, so I'm sure that's the only reason. :) He said that her chest sounds much clearer and she's breathing at a more normal rate and with much less effort. He was thrilled and says that she has definitely turned a good corner. He still wants us to be vigilant and on top of things in case she takes a bad turn, but he seemed to feel much more confident that the worst is behind us. That definitely made US feel better! It also helps that Millie does just seem to feel better. Her coughing fits are less frequent, she's a little less snotty, and she certainly seems to have more energy. She's been playing and babbling more like her usual self.

So that's been our exciting weekend. I am so thankful for the amazing medical care we've received and for the compassion and prayers our families and friends have given us. I keep thinking of the families with truly sick children, and I just can't imagine how difficult that must be. Cute gown aside, being in the hospital and worrying about your child's breathing is not fun...and our experience lasted only a few hours. I can't even imagine those who practically live in that situation all the time. Although we will hopefully emerge from this weekend relatively unscathed, my heart is freshly aware of those who aren't so lucky.

 I hope your holiday weekends have been slightly less dramatic and a lot healthier than mine, ha. Also, please try to imagine what a failure all of my careful meal planning and laundry-doing and house-cleaning and exercising has been this weekend...ha. Best laid plans and all...but a healthy Millie (and me, I guess) is more important than all that. It can wait.

If you made it to the end of this, I applaud you. I will give you a book recommendation as your reward: The Rent Collector*. It's what we're reading for book club this month, and I haven't even finished it, but it is SO GOOD!!!! It has kept me company for many hours of watching Millie sleep...

Happy Monday, friends.

*Amazon affiliate link. Looks like I'll be paying a lot of doctors' bills this month, ha.

christmas card roundup

You pretty much saw my Christmas card (proudly displayed on my own piano!) during my house tour last week, but I figured I better share it "officially" for good measure. We used Costco for our cards (we also used them for our birth announcements) and they did a great job. Actually, they messed up the order the first time (gave us the correct number of envelopes but shorted us a set of 25 cards...), but as soon as I let them know, they re-sent the entire (correct) (and ENTIRE, sooo...we had WAY more cards than we needed) order immediately. So...high five for prompt problem-solving, Costco!

Wow. The mustard yellow throw pillow I chose to set the card on to photograph it REALLY does a lot for it, right? That nice glow? Special. 

Anyway. I love the card and especially love that Costco prints your return address on the envelopes for you, saving my poor hand a lot of writing (or stamping, actually).

Back in 2011 I would update my "Christmas card stats" at the bottom of (some of) my December posts. I had fun keeping tabs (and now it's fun to compare this year's cards), so I figured I'd assess the cards we've received so far this year.

The door looks a lot happier than last week! Also, does it drive you crazy that I just stick the cards up there all willy-nilly and not in lines or rows? I like it, but I feel like it would cause some folks to lose sleep at night. All the uptight people. ;) But trying to put them in lines/rows would drive ME crazy because I want to put them up as they arrive...and how could I know how many I'll ultimately receive to accurately judge how to space them? How to account for horizontal/vertical orientations? See, that would be worse. WILLY-NILLY IT IS.

So far we have a total of 22 cards.

Number of Non-Photo Cards: 4
Number of Photo Cards: 18

Of the 18 photo cards...
Number of collage cards: 10 (So this is apparently a big thing now! I swear in previous years collage cards were NOT this prevalent! All you indecisive people...)
Number of cards from blog friends (that I would not/did not know outside of blogging): 10 (Matt really loves opening cards from strangers and seeing them displayed all the time!)
Number of cards with pets: 2 (Poor pets.)
Number of cards from people named Amanda: 4 (this is Matt's favorite joke- every time a new card comes: IS IT FROM AMANDA?!??!!)
Number of cards from Georgia: 6
Card hailing from furthest away: Northglenn, Colorado (1,447 miles). I am actually shocked- I had already written down Ontario, Canada...but then consulted Google Maps and discovered that Ontario is actually CLOSER than Northglenn by about 500 miles! Who knew?

Annnnd...now I need to go to work, so that's all the fascinating statistics I have time for. If you're bored, feel free to assess your own cards! Fun for all (nerds)!

pretty pictures: in a field

I realized that I never shared the 'posed' photo session Kristina did when she visited in September! I was so in love with the real life pictures, I barely even paid attention to the Posing In a Field ones. (Side note, but I swear- one day in 50 years our grandkids are all going to be like why were all of your pictures always in fields? Did you live in the country? Were neighborhoods not invented? And we're going to be like...ummm, yeah. It was 2014. TAKING PICTURES IN FIELDS IS WHAT WE DID. People drove good distances for the right field, sonny!)

Luckily, the field we posed in is less than a mile from our house. There are certain advantages to living in the sticks. Such as...you live in the sticks. There are fields.

We are happy in a field! The light shines blissfully upon us!

Oh look, a baby! In a field!

Stop it, I can't even mock this one. That is damn precious.

Someone told me that your arms look skinnier in fields if you put your hand on your hip. Can't hurt, right?

Good thing there was a bench- standing in that field was getting exhausting!

Awww this was before Mills went bald on the back of her head...

BEST PICTURE EVER OH MY GOSH THE YAWN IS SO CUUUUUUTE!!!!

Smooching in a field with a baby. Of course!

This one is precious. 

OH MY GOSH WHAT IS THAT THING??? Oh, a hand. Cool.

Oh look, Mom quit trying and took off the scarf and pulled up her hair because IT WAS 10,000 DEGREES OUT THERE.

Okay okay okay. I mock, but I really like the pictures in a field (and it was me that requested it, so don't think anyone dragged me out to a field against my will or something). I had thought that I might pick one of the Field Pictures for our Christmas cards, but now I don't think I will. First of all, my arms look fat in all of the pictures (besides the hand-on-hip one, but you can't even really see Millie in that one and I have a hunch that people care more about seeing Millie's cute face and really couldn't care less about my arm pudge). Second of all, this is so long ago that Millie looks like a totally different person. And now she can SMILE- wouldn't people want a more recent picture where she's smiling? In these pictures, she's about 2 weeks older than in the birth announcement picture. So like...I just think I need a more recent picture for Christmas cards. And I need to wear long sleeves. So it looks like another trip to a field will be in our near future.

As before, all pictures are copyright Kristina Boothe Photography. If you need pictures in a bed or in a field (or by an ocean, since she actually lives in Jax and does most of her pictures on beaches...lucky...), she's your girl!