Another reason we'll be paying off medical bills for the rest of our lives

It's been a long time since my I've answered the phone and heard this on the other end:

"Hello? Is this Maxwell's mom? This is so-and-so from Primary Children's Hospital and I'm just calling to get some information about Maxwell for his surgery tomorrow."

What? You didn't know we were having surgery this week? Neither did we.

Usually, it takes 4-6 weeks to get in to see the ENTs at Primary's. When I called about the world's worst ear infection last week, they got me in in less than a week.

When I schlepped all 4 kids to the hospital for the appointment, the doctor told us that his previously placed ear tube was causing the infection, and it needed to be removed and replaced with a new, non-infected tube as soon as possible. He also suggested removing Max's adenoids because they often are inflamed and contribute to ear infections.

So I was thinking we would book a surgery date in a few weeks. Nope. Try two days. He really did mean as soon as possible.

I really hate taking my little boy in for surgery, no matter how minor. Not fun. Not even remotely. If we never, ever have to hand him over the an anesthesiologist again it will be perfectly fine with me.

Poor Max started screaming the minute they put the hospital bracelet on him, and didn't stop until way after the dose of versed kicked in. Although I have to admit that Tom and I got a chuckle out of the fact that they didn't even ask us if we wanted it, they just ordered it. I supposed him kicking at and running away from the staff probably gave them their first clue.

 The worst part? We know that he remembers. Somewhere, deep in his psyche, he remembers at least parts of the experiences he's had before. The sight of the blue hospital band triggered a fear and rage so deep that there was nothing we could do to console him. 

Luckily, ear tubes and adenoids make for an easy, relatively quick surgery. He woke up from the anesthesia yelling "No Doctors! No Doctors!" but a dose of pain meds took care of everything relatively quickly. We hung out in the hospital until we could get him to drink something, and were more than happy to be headed home.

The afternoon was up and down. Once we finally got him to eat something he started acting a little bit more normal, and was even able to charm one of my violin students into asking "Didn't he have surgery today?" And while things got really ugly when the pain meds wore off, we dosed him up quickly, and got another good laugh out of our drugged up little boy falling asleep in his bowl of cereal.

I'm glad it's done and over with. Glad not to have to wait for weeks, dreading another surgery. Thankful that we're entering cold and flu season with a fresh set of tubes and less chances of ear infections for Max. But seriously. My poor little boy. I wish he could catch a break somewhere.

Oh, and that goes for our medical bills too.

 Dear IHC: Just put this one one our tab, m'kay?

It's quiet at my house.

All four children are sleeping. (For now. Knock on wood.)

I'm at a computer.

These are three very big, very rare events at my house.

I'd celebrate, but I don't want to wake anyone up.

So we're homeschooling. It's overwhelming, and joyful, and maddening, and exciting, and lots of other -ings all at once. I haven't yet figured out how to school the girls, help them both practice their instruments, take care of the babies, teach the lessons and make sure the house keeps functioning. It's a lot. There's always at least one someone who needs me. Whether it's Ashlynn who needs help with spelling words, or Abby who can't quite put together the passage in Fiocco Allegro, or Max who wants to play/get thrown in the air/needs a snack five minutes after breakfast ended or Ian who just NEEDS everything, I'm spread pretty thin.

My friend Morgan wrote this post today, and already said everything I was feeling. So you know, just head over there and pretend that I wrote that. It reminded me again that I chose this. I can make it what we need it to be. And we're only three weeks in. We'll be fine. There are bright spots.

For instance, I folded a million loads of laundry today, and was so obscenely proud of myself, (and impressed with my laundry stacking abilities) that I took a picture!

And, Ashlynn sat at the kitchen table completely unprompted today to work on a story she's been writing. She's taken her little composition book everywhere with her the past few days, and has written at least six pages of a story. Today she wrote uninterrupted for more than an hour. She was thrilled. So was I.

In other news, since my husband has been home for a record six days in a row, we bought a car. It's been in the works for a while, but now was the time. Not only because we're both in the same state, or because we got a screaming "Labor Day SALE SALE SALE!!!" deal, but because Tom's boss told him straight up that it wasn't acceptable for him to be one of the faces of his company driving the beat up gray Granny car he's been driving for the past three years. I don't understand what her problem was. After all, the bashes in the side of the car just added character, and the worn out muffler just made it so that we knew exactly when he was arriving home.

Just for the record, this picture shows only one of two huge dents placed in Tom's car by our oh-so-nice-neighbors, who not only find it incredibly difficult not to back into our car when they're pulling out of their driveway, but that much more sdifficult to actually REPORT it. I can't say that we'll miss our Gray Dodge. Especially not when there's a brand new, less than 100 miles on it, silver-blue Nissan sitting in the driveway.

Just to further complicate things, the baby took two steps Tuesday. And more yesterday. He's nine months old. It's not even funny. He's thrilled, and has proceeded to empty grabage cans, play in the toilet, pull books off the bookshelf like it's his mission in life, and whack his poor little head on everything in sight. He's obviously ignored my instructions to stay little for as long as possible. He's naughty that way. And if the kid would just sleep for more than an hour at a shot, I could probably conquer the world. Seriously, we suspect he's paying us back for all those easy naps we got when he was tiny.

Not to be outdone, Max has managed to cultivate what may be the world's worst ear infection. Did you know that ears stink when they get infected? Neither did I. But it's true. And it might just be the worst smell in the world. Because it's Max, we've been through a round of antibiotic drops, and have almost finished a course of oral antibiotics without much change. We got his ear cultured yesterday so we could get a better picture of what we're dealing with. The pediatrician thinks it might be staff or MRSA, but then said it would be "really rare" for that to show up in a child. Yup. She obviously isn't our regular pediatrician or she would know better than to say "really rare." She told us that it may be time to look at getting Max's adenoids and tonsils removed along with putting in a new set of tubes. We have an appointment back at Primary Children's Tuesday morning for an ENT consult. Sigh. I haven't missed the medical roller coaster AT ALL.

Maybe I should have the girls interview one of Max's doctors and call it a homeschooling project. Hmmm.

Not Back to School

I have no computer. Sigh. My desktop and laptop were in the shop and I picked them up yesterday. Unfortunately, the laptop was not actually repaired, (Good thing we paid $75 bucks to have it fixed...) and I'm not smart enough to hook our desktop up, and my husband is still out of town. (This is week six of six straight on the road. Yes, we are excited to see him on days other than Saturday and Sunday.)

So blogging from the iPhone is fun, yes?

Tomorrow is the first day of school for the neighborhood. I just made waffle batter for our not-back-to-school breakfast. We've been going at the homeschool thing strong for almost 3 weeks now, and today was my first "Why did I think this was a good idea" day. Abby decided she needed 2 1/2 hours for spelling and vocabulary, then had to finish everything else in the van on the way to her first violin lesson of the new school year.

I'm still pretty convinced we're doing the right thing in keeping the girls home. But that doesn't mean I won't still wonder about it tomorrow morning around, say, 8:25 am.

I'll just crawl under my rock now

So I have to know.

Have you ever had one of those days where you're feeling all put together and cute because you're wearing the cute new shirt you snagged when you were supposed to be back-to-school shopping, and then you're feeling proud of yourself because not only did you teach a bunch of violin lessons, but you practiced with two kids and then worked on grammar, vocabulary, math and spelling with them, and THEN you were ambitious/motivated/crazy enough to go to the post office, the copy store and the district office where you filled out your homeschooling affidavit,(gulp),only to come home and find the size sticker for that snazzy new shirt is still stuck on your shirt right over your right boob?

Me neither. That would be incredibly embarrassing.

(It was the left boob. And it might explain the looks of pity and the "You must have your hands full!" comments I got everywhere I went today.)

And now, for some poetry

Scriptures read.

Prayers said.

Baby fed. (And fed, and fed)

Exhausted.

To bed.

Excuses, excuses

Yes, I am still alive.

Barely.

As for my unexplained absence from the computer, I have some good excuses.

Wanna hear them? (Of course you do. I know you do. Why else do you come to my blog?)

Remember how we decided to homeschool? And how I worried that I was going to go a little crazy? Yeah. So here's the thing. I'm still convinced it's the right decision for our family, but I also think it's going to end up the kind of full-blown crazy that only my family can pull off.

We're homeschooling using k12. The great thing about it is that all your curriculum for the whole year is shipped to you free at the beginning of the school year. Some of the instruction is done online, but all the reading books, science experiments, and even a blow-up globe ended up on our porch on Monday afternoon courtesy of the UPS guy. My husband took one look at all the stuff strewn everywhere and quipped, "Are you sure they didn't send you everything for K through 12?"

I had great dreams of getting everything perfectly organized, catalogued, and ready for a grand and ceremonious start. The girls thought Monday's delivery was Christmas and wanted all the boxes opened at once. Abby begged to start homeschooling atleast 572 times before Monday was over. it was as good a time as any to introduce her to the word "perseverate."

This is what my floor looked like Monday afternoon. And this is after we unpacked two full boxes. Do me a favor and ignore the pile of laundry on the floor. I seem to have forgotten how much laundry is involved in a household of six, and Mt Idon'twannafoldlaundry had once again grown to epic proportions.

So now, two days later, we've worked on English literature, Math, Science, and Art. Still to come is grammar, vocabulary, spelling, and history. (Sheesh!) I'm still trying to figure out how the puzzle pieces all fit, and how we're going to do all of that plus the hours of practicing and lessons. Like I said, I had grand intentions of getting completely organized, and was going to type and display lists and schedules and lists of schedules, but since this is the first time in a week I've had a chance to sit down at the computer, naturally I'm blogging about it instead.

So why besides the pile of curriculum in my front room have I not been able to accomplish anything, you ask? Let me show you one little picture.

Yes, this would be my darling Ian, who at the time of this picture had just discovered the wonders of watermelon, taco meat, and fresh guacamole eaten off a spoon.

He looks very sweet. Looks are deceiving.

Remember how he was the easy baby? The baby that slept? Well, now it's all about Ian's revenge.

This little boy seems to have forgotten what it means to sleep, or at least sleep consistently. Where I used to be able to set a stopwatch by his naptimes, now we could have a two and a half hour nap, or a five minute nap. Who knows. And once he finally decides to wind down and sleep at night, I could be required to put him back to sleep 1-4 times or more before I finally give up and go to bed myself.

He's crawling everywhere, but his favorite is cruising along the furniture and walls at alarming speed. Today he reached the dubious milestone of learning to unroll entire rolls of toilet paper. Sigh.

And with all those milestones comes the sheer delight of separation anxiet and we have a wicked case in full swing. With three others, I thought I had seen my share of it, but this one might be the worst. Or maybe I've blocked out all the others, which is a distinct possibility. What I didn't remember is constantly having a weepy, sad, whining baby pulling himself up on your leg, or having that same clingy cling monster scream and try desperately to climb out of the shopping cart and into your arms in the grocery store just because a stranger dared to say "Hi" to him.

So I'm tired. Much too tired. Like probably more tired than when he was a newborn tired. And I know it will pass, and I have high hopes that he'll eventually sleep and that I won't have to nurse him back to sleep every 45 minutes all night long. (Last night I was half asleep and telling Ian "There's no more milk, baby, it's all gone." If only you could reason with an 8 month old...)

So tell me it will get better. Tell me I won't always feel this overwhelmed about homeschooling. Tell me I will sleep again someday. Tell me you're bringing me chocolate and Diet Coke. Tell me my husband might someday stop traveling. Tell me you understand. Tell me a joke. Tell me anything! (I might be a bit starved for adult interaction, can ya tell?)

Let the Wild Rumpus Start

My girls are home!

And if you're thinking to yourself, "Wait. Since when does Stacy have 3 daughters?" I don't, really. She's the girls' best friend, K, and she may as well be mine. Let's just say that everyone is have a very joyous reunion. I don't know if I've heard this much giggling and squealing, since, well, ever.

My baby is crawling!

And I forgot how adorable crawling babies are, and how much trouble they can get in in no time flat. I turned my back the other day and found him in the bathroom with a tipped over garbage can eating a dirty diaper. Shudder. Guess this means I'm going to have to vacuum way more often. And re-teach the girls about the importance of closed bathroom doors.

And I have the cold from you know where. It has been hanging around off and on for the better part of two weeks, and yesterday I started sounding like an asthmatic dying from emphysema and ended up needing to break out this:

And my husband is who knows where. Phoenix? Vegas? Somewhere hot. But that's not really news, and I don't have a picture to go with it, (mostly because I can't, for the life of me, remember where he is,) so never mind.