The Enigma of Children

There are days when I sit in one of those rare quiet moments, and I realize that I have an easy job as a parent. Those are the moments when I can sit back, relax and contemplate the things I am doing right to raise my tiny humans to be good, solid, contributing members of the community. 

In those moments, I relish my children. Their good manners with all the "please" and "thank you" and the willingness to clean up after themselves or to get the dogs food. Then, suddenly, my moment of contemplation is decimated by an Earth shattering battle cry. All the happy moments vanish like a magician in a Vegas act with one word... "MOM!!!" Throw a little volume behind a tiny word, and it is nothing less then a nuclear bomb going off in my brain.

Suddenly, Sweet Little Girl becomes Obnoxious Devil at war with her arch nemesis, Annoying Little Brother, aka Adorable Little Boy. In my frustration at having my peaceful respite crushed like a bug, Happy Mom turns into Yelling Mom, and the vision of perfect children morphs into nothing more than a pleasant memory shelved for another day.

Kids are sent to their rooms, Mom calms and thinks of chores to punish them. The kids, not unlike caterpillars, emerge again as beautiful butterflies, totally in love with each other again and play perfectly well together (as now they cannot watch TV or play any kind of electronics) for the rest of the day. This leads to a conundrum. Why do these two beautiful children who love each other suddenly turn into monsters who hate each other, and then almost as suddenly back into beautiful children who love each other?

The enigma of children.

Now that they are tucked warmly into bed, I can sit in peace and relish their good manners, brilliant minds, and willingness to help out around the house. I know in my reverie that tomorrow morning it will come to a screeching halt again, at precisely 8:36 am, when I realize that for the millionth time, Liza has failed to wash her bangs and she will cry when I ask her "Why, again?!?" while at the same time Porter will be getting the daily "Seriously? Get your freakin' shoes on!!". Then we will all go to school, and come home and do what we do every day. We will have dinner and get ready for bed, read, brush teeth and tuck them in with hugs and kisses and a big "I love you!" and it will all start over again.

Every day. Every night. Forever. God willing.

Really?

Ever wonder if you are more than a cosmic joke?

It has been a LONG time since my last post, and a lot has happened. PJ started kindergarten and is loving it, Liza is relishing the fact that she is thriving in 2nd grade. And I have been sick. Yes, s-i-c-k sick. It all started when I woke up July 3rd. I didn't feel great. I threw up. I figured I had over done it for Jer's birthday. But, after being sick all week, I saw the PA at the clinic I normally go to. She called it a virus, gave me a shot, and sent me on my way. 2 weeks later, still sick and with my doc out of the office, I saw one of his partners. He took some blood and discovered that I had a bum gallbladder. Had several I.V.s, an ultra sound, a CT, and finally a hyda-scan. Saw a surgeon. He removed my gallbladder. 2 weeks later, still very, very sick, doc sends me for an EGD (scope of the upper GI tract). That doctor tells me I have "intestinal reflux" and an esophageal hernia. Basically GERD. Prescribes meds. Meds don't help. Still throwing up several times a day. Through all of this, my heart rate is averaging 120 beats per minute (tachycardia). 11 weeks into all of this, the same doc I have been seeing tells me he is "out of ideas" and I should see a G.I. specialist.

Desperation, and a loss of 15 pounds, leads me to see my GP. His nurse takes my pulse. She says, "That's not right." Looks into my eyes and asks if I have had an eye exam. "Last Tuesday." I tell her. "Nope. I want to check your thyroid." She says, and walks out. Apparently, right there in the hall, she told my doctor to check it. Finally, someone looks at my heart rate as a symptom. Not "Well, you've been vomiting, so it's a little high...."

Two days later, September 15, my doctor calls and tells me that I owe his nurse, Lysa for finding my hyperthyroid. 

And this is where it gets sketchy. Since that call, I have had an iodine uptake test (I should have had 7% thyroid hormone in my soft tissues. Sadly, I had a whopping 60%). It's official. I have Graves' Disease. My great aunt Ann had it. We think my grandmother had it. It runs in families. An auto-immune disease that attacks the thyroid, causing it to pump out massive amounts of thyroid hormone. It usually affects women in their 30s.

I was put on a massive dose of PTU (100mg 3 times a day). My ankles have swollen to massive amounts, and I am taking beta blockers for increased heart rate. About a week later, I have decided that the C.I.A would have far better results giving terrorists my new rash than water boarding. I went back to see my doctor. He tells me flat out "I've never heard of this before, but let's face it. With you anything is possible." He put me on a mere 5mg of Methimazole and hydroxin 3x a day + Zantac and Zyrtec 2x a day. Itching and rash have spread to arms and ribs, and get worse every day.

I was supposed to see an endocrinologist yesterday. But for whatever reason (I am thinking spur of the moment vacation) she will be out of the office for the next 2 weeks. So rather than take the chance that my appointment sometime in November, isn't going to change, I found a new doctor. He will see me next week. Here's to hoping to find something to solve the itching and swelling.

Who Knew?

So no one reads this anymore. Hence, no posts since September. But here was something that PJ did the other day that I got such a kick out of...

We all know that Liza has absolutely zero artistic ability. For proof, I refer to her report card. She scored 4s (mastered skill, ahh, proud moment) in everything! Except handwriting. She can do equations, read anything, but ask her to draw a straight line and it just isn't going to happen. Although, to her credit, her stick figures are coming along.

But PJ on the other hand. Well, that is apparently a whole different story. The other day, he grabs Liza's notebook and begins to doodle. When I ask him what he is drawing, he says, "A one eyed martian camel." With a tone that said I should have seen this one coming. I am completely clueless to where he got the concept. He has quite the imagination. When he was done, it actually looked like how a real alien camel might appear. See for yourself:

Watch what you ask for.

Last year while volunteering at EVES, I fell in love with the take home reading program. This was a small library that sent home a book on the child's reading level every day. Your student would read the book, answer some comprehension questions, then take the book back the next day. Then get a new book and do it all over again. I finally learned that the same program would be offered at the new school. But after a week with the books sitting in their boxes and no one doing anything with them, I offered my help. And that has landed me, as well as a neighbor, running it. Eh, I've got the time, and I love the program. I will be good for me to get back into volunteering. Talk to me next week. I may be singing a different tune.

PJ's first day of school

Today was PJ's first day of preK. This is almost the same as kindergarten, except he won't go on the shorter Mondays, and I have to pay a small fortune for it. But, it is well worth it. I think this will help him get a leg up when he goes into kindergarten next year. It will certainly help him get used to the environment and routine. He loves his teacher, Ms. Parker. He has a friend in his class, and that makes him super excited.

As with Liza, Jer stayed home late so he could take PJ to school on the motorcycle. That made PJ's day. When I went to pick him up, he asked if he would get to ride the motorcycle every day. Sadly, no. But that's OK. Apparently he was cold on the motorcycle anyway.

When I asked PJ what he did in class today, he said he forgot. He told me that they were going to learn to read today, but they ran out of time, so they didn't. He can't wait until tomorrow when he gets to go back. And neither can I. I enjoyed my first morning free. I went grocery shopping. ALONE! Wow, that is nice.

Cabin

Labor Day was spent at the family cabin at Strawberry Reservoir. We met most of the Lewis clan for our annual bbq. We did this last year too. It was a lot of fun. It makes me sad that I don't make more of an effort to go up there. The kids love it. I have fond memories of spending my childhood there. We would get filthy making sand stone sculptures, climbing in and out of the meadow, hiking to the water tank and the beaver dam. But it has been years since I have spent more than an afternoon up there.

PJ and some of his cousins thought it would be so much fun  to make a new mud slide. They would climb up the hill a few feet and slide down on their backsides, getting completely covered in dirt. I have never seen PJ get so dirty. He had so much fun. Liza went hiking around with anyone who would take her anywhere. She loves hiking and exploring in the outdoors.

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