Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Good. Me neither.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Or maybe I'll just go to sleep.
Goofing off while Abby is in class. I dare you to look at this picture without cracking a smile. He was giggling so hard at this point that he almost fell out of the stroller.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
I'm not a panicky freak out mom when it comes to my kids' illnesses. More often than not, I let a fever run its course, and its typically over and done in a day or two. I'm not a germaphobe, and I'm definitely not a neat freak. However, that's all changed when it comes to Max and his crazy long health history. When I saw his temperature it was all I could do to not rush him to the pediatrician right then.
The good news is, he's still acting relatively normal. The last time he spiked a fever and we were readmitted to the hospital, he was crying inconsolably, and nothing would make him happy. Today he just been a little whiny, a little clingy (this translates roughly into him screaming bloody murder every time I leave the room!) and very sleepy. So as of right now, I'm repeating the mantra "Its just a virus" over and over again, and hoping against hope that we can weather this one without yet another trip to the hospital.
And for crying out loud, can't my poor little boy catch a break?
Sunday, June 7, 2009
"So," I thought to myself, "The grocery store is half a mile away. We should just put the baby in the stroller and walk to the store. It would be great to spend time together, get some exercise and get out of the house for a while." At this point, I should have just told myself to shut up.
The girls were thrilled at the idea. Max kicked his legs and drooled, so I assumed it was okay with him. The walk there was uneventful, and the time in the grocery store was nothing out of the ordinary. ("Abby, put that down!" "Please don't poke holes in the meat packages!" "No, we are not buying candy bars, lunchables, kiwis, chocolate milk, treats for the dog, washable markers, overpriced Barbies, purple cauliflower, or whatever else you are asking about." "Ashlynn, don't put that in the cart! We're not buying it." "If you don't come back here RIGHT NOW, take that out of the cart and put it back where you got it, we're not making cookies at all!" See, all perfectly normal.)
It was when we left the grocery store that things started going downhill fast. Somehow in the 20 minutes that we were in the store, a massive thunderstorm had blown into the valley. The wind was gusting like mad, and the storm clouds were looking awfully menacing. Despite the girls whining, we didn't have a choice. We set off for home, hoping that if we walked fast enough, we would avoid the torrential downpour.
Just as we got the the point of no return, the sky opened and the downpour started. The thunder rolled, and the girls shrieked, to badly paraphrase a Garth Brooks song. We had no choice but to keep going. The girls were crying, Max couldn't decide if getting soaked was funny or not and was alternating between crying and giggling. I couldn't help but laugh. Because really, what else can you do when you have crying kids and a stroller full of soaked groceries?
Ah, well, nothing that a warm blanket and some chocolate chip cookies couldn't fix.
You would think that I would have learned my lesson. But oh no.
Friday, we were missing a few things for dinner again. (I really need to start planning better!) This time being slightly smarter, I packed all three kids up in the van and schlepped us all to the store. Now grocery shopping normally is bad enough. Grocery shopping with three kids in tow= mind numbing torture.
Highlights of this particular shopping trip include:
--Forgetting to get a bag of baby carrots. We were one aisle away from the produce, so I thought it would be okay to send 7 year old Abby back to get a bag. A few minutes later, just as I was wondering what was taking her so long, I hear the scream of "MOM!!!" from clear across the store. Abby has gone in the wrong direction, and is pacing up and down the cracker and cookie aisle trying to find the baby carrots.
--Standing in front of the baby food, trying to decide what flavors to get while my kids run down the aisle, holding hands singing (screeching) "She'll be comin' round the mountain when she comes."
--Self checkout. Having only a handful of items in my cart, and finding all the other checkout lines about 5 people deep, I decide to be smart and use the self checkout line. (I should have heeded my advice from earlier in this post about when it seems like a good idea, ignore it, because its inevitably going to cause chaos.) Midway through, my touch screen was possessed of an evil spirit and began scanning things in of its own accord, flashing nasty messages at me, and then shutting itself down. Despite the fact that there were no less than 6 customer service people standing around at the service booth, it took some begging to get someone to come over and fix my machine so that I could buy the stupid onions. Then, just as I thought we were home free, the girls decided to climb in the baggage area, prompting more hysteria and another shut down from the checkout machine for "Unauthorized merchandise in the bagging area." We're lucky we made it out alive. Check that. The girls are lucky they made it out alive.
New resolution for the rest of summer vacation. Never again am I going grocery shopping with all three kids in tow. If we don't have it, we're going to have to do without it.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Practicing violin with my seven year old is always an adventure. Now that Max has realized that he likes the violin and wants to participate, its because even more so. Because now, along with repeated reminders of "less bow," "Watch that low 2," and "Where's the half step, Abby?" I spend practice time trying to keep Max from grabbing the violin right out of Abby's hands. I have to admit though, its pretty darn cute.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
291 minutes in the OR= $4949.91 or approximately $17.01 per minute.
Daily Charge for a room in the PICU= $1185.10 (Should have gotten a room at the Grand America Hotel instead. Cheaper, better beds, better food! And just so you know, this does not include nursing services or anything else. It just includes ths space we took up in the PICU and the air we breathed.)
1 tsp dose of Lortab= $6.18 (1 Bottle of Lortab is a $4.00 generic prescription at Smiths!)
Plates and screws put in Max's skull to remodel it and help keep his new shape: $15007.06
1 Dose of pediatric Versed to prep him for a spinal tap: $429.63 (billed at a half-hour of concious sedation.)
Total Bill from the Neurosurgeon= $6137.68 (Now really, I'm not knocking the guy. I know he's very smart and very skilled. But he was only with my son for an hour!)
Total Bill From the Hospital so far= $47,382.72. We have yet to see a bill from our main surgeon, the anesthesiologists, or the radiologists. I'm betting, by the time all is said and done, we will top out around $75,000.
Really, its not as bad as it seems. The hospital bills the insurance company, and the insurance company tells the hospital there's no way they're paying $6.18 for every dose of lortab, so the bill is settled for much less than the itemized statements that I have. Plus, we have a $3,000 out of pocket maximum before the insurance company pays out at 100%. But still, its a huge bill! Tom and I can't wait for the day when Max is 16 or 17 and wants to do something dangerous like skydiving or stupid like getting a tattoo, and tells us, "It's my body, and I'll do what I want with it!" Because, um no. Between the outrageous amount of money that we paid for fertility treatments to get and stay pregnant, and the amount of medical bills we're paying now, we own him. For a long, long time!
But speaking of surgery, yesterday we reached the one-month post op mark! Woo-hoo! I am obsessively taking pictures of his head, so here's the latest, meant to show one month post surgery.
Look Ma, no ridge!
And the top view. I love that the triangle shape is mostly gone. But my favorite thing is that you can hardly see his scar. A few more weeks of hair growth and you'll have to search for it. I don't care what my plastic surgeon bills. It was worth it.