Maybe if We Dropped a Megaton of Cheese

I've not been all that smooth myself. The first time we enjoyed a Greek Dinner at Mykonos, Brian's dad introduced me to their Sagnaki, or more specifically an appetizer of flaming, pan-seared cheese and tomato, doused with a squirt of lemon juice, to a cheer of  "oooooooooOO-PA!" While awaiting our snack, I started pondering aloud how insensitive it seemed to set a dish on fire and name it after a tragic piece of history,when Brian interrupted with, "No, Amy, that was Nagasaki." The last mix up like that I can remember was when I was about 8 and thought people were constantly saying rude things about the elderly, when mom corrected me that the word I was thinking of was retarded, not retired. I also recall having an interesting moment, thinking people dipped rodents in fudge when I saw a recipe for Chocolate Mousse.

We had Greek for lunch again the other day and ever since then, Ian has celebrated various daily activities with shouts of, "ooooOOO-BAY!"

Yesterday, we set out to go to Fernbank, the museum of natural history. It all actually starts the night before, when I ensured that we had chosen a place to go and that it would be open on Labor Day. So, Brian wakes me up in the morning, we eat breakfast, and Brian claims he can do a quick project for his dad in about 3 minutes. Brian's Dad had stated that the two places he wanted to go for food while he was here were Thumbs Up and Flying Biscuit, so I planned that we would go there for lunch and dinner, respectively. After all sorts of bumbling, we ended up at a Mediterranean place for lunch. It was after 3 and at the end of the nearby Dragoncon and they had no pita, so they had gone out to buy hamburger buns(?!?!). Yes, why not pita? It seems there weren't many places open. By the time we finished, there was no reasonable amount of time to visit Fernbank, so we bumbled some more and went on a short quest to find Indian candy. When that didn't work, we headed for the Perimeter Mall.

On our way out of Nordstrom, a lady working there commented on Ian's boots. They ended up sitting on the floor trying to trade shoes. I was too busy admiring the scene to snap a shot of the good part.

Ultimately, we all agreed we had a good time, and I tried to be chilled about the absolute plan fail. Brian's dad made a comment about how sometimes we can over-plan and I sarcastically replied something along the lines of, "Yeah, like picking ONE place to go." The Cheesecake Factory dinner made it all better.

I've started trying to be very anal about putting things where they belong, and our counter in particular. We have a tendency to pile up a mountain of objects on it. Every night, particularly if Brian works the next day, I try to do a last-minute pick-up on the way to bed. I passed the counter and saw a pile of quarters. As I was taking them to the change dish, I noticed there were some state design quarters I didn't have in my collection book. My bedraggled Brian comes in and sees me hunched over my collection and nearly has a Zebu. I don't know why, but around 8 or 9 p.m., no matter how tired I am, I get a house-cleaning, project-starting buzz. It drives him crazy.

I need to formulate a new workout plan. I get an awful, Pavlovian response to taking the kids to the gym, because I know Elijah cries in child care until he's hot and puffy, and I can't do that anymore. It takes twice as long for Brian and I to switch off with the kids, so maybe I can put my membership on vacation hold or something. Or maybe I'll try a few more times at a different time of day. Or maybe I'll see if I can earn another   Bad Parent Award and wear him in the Bjorn on the elliptical? Or maybe I'll simply keep trying to lug three bugs to the grocery store. Plenty of cardio there.

I'll Be in the Powder Room

He's crawling! I would probably call it official since Friday. I'm in for it now. They can officially take off in three different directions. Prior to Friday, Elijah was "migrating." By lunging and turning and sitting, he would get around a little bit.

His last chemo visit went well. His blood counts were basically normal and he had another dose of  IVIG. The doctor said his levels were rising enough that he might not need it again.

You'd think I was intentionally averting my attention from my 2 and 3 year old, just to see what interesting thing they'd do, based on the stuff they accomplish. That's tempting on some level, but, no. They have plans ready to execute, the moment I nurse a baby or take a shower. The other day, while I was holding Elijah and folding laundry (doing neither very effectively), Isaac got the baby powder out of  the changing table pocket, and powdered the entire kitchen and himself. I sent him upstairs to play and, planning to clean the kitchen when Brian came in from mowing, I sat down to nurse the poor, famished baby. Ian sneaked in, and thinking Isaac's project hilarious, he snitched the baby oil and painted over top of the powder. I only caught him when he poured the oil all the way to the living room and started shaking it on Elijah's head.

Usually, I'm good about waiting until the last minute to mention plans to the boys, but this time, my mixture of excitement about Disney and wondering if it will thrill or terrify them, has weakened my resolve. Now, every time we pull into a parking lot, Ian asks, "Is this Disney?" Last week, he put on a Handy Manny costume from 2 years ago and vowed to wear it to Disney. After two straight days, I was starting to think he was really going to leave it on until our trip. It wasn't until I got him pirate and fireman pajamas that I convinced him to take it off.

I'd like to take the boys to the Bodies exhibit. I went before and it was really amazing. Since Ian has been asking all about bones and muscles and all, I think he'd really get into it. I tried to get Brian to go last weekend, but he came up with lots of reasons not to. It turns out he just doesn't share my fascination.

If you start using the potty, I'll laugh at your poo with you.

Scrubbing poo out of the carpet before breakfast is not the best marker of a good day. That's OK. I'm keeping my eyes on the Prize.  We are planning our escape to an undisclosed location *.* at an undisclosed time. Having bumbled through the morning with my free-day-at-the-children's-museum virus, I put the kids down for a nap. Tip-toeing to the toaster (sing that in a squeaky voice), with my non-napping baby in one arm, I almost wish someone was witness to my deftness as I yank the toaster lever up, sending my horribly wonderful toaster pastry prize into the sky, high enough for me to snatch it with the same hand. Mmm. The only thing more rewarding than evil treats is managing to gobble them without the boys noticing.

Junk-snacking is not a great idea. This bug already botched my new workout routine after only one trip to the gym! I figured I'd be nice and not share our boogers with them. Interestingly, it seems the last time I had a bug was also the last time I blogged. I'll try not to make that a habit. I've also been "partying" with an over-clocked thyroid, which doesn't make me the friendliest mama on the block, and...also has me constantly seeking a sugar fix.  Oh leetle vacation, where are youuu?

If anyone is keeping a list of things moms/wives don't care to hear, I have a few you can add.  They range in severity from "*sigh*" to "OMG I don't ever want to hear that again."

1. Toddler saying: Mooooooom! Change me! Change me! (accompanied by a squishy trail of special effects)
2. Husband saying: Your toothbrush is awesome!
3. Toddler saying: Dad! Let's play poop! (proceeds to crawl between dad's legs, saying "poooo-oop!")
4. Toddler in bath hollering to me in next room: He he he! I'm tickling myself mom!
5. Toddler to dad: Take! I taked your penis and now you have a 'gina! (I think we're a little obsessed with "down there" right now)
6. Pre-schooler saying proudly: Look! I made a golf club. (holding up carefully torn page from a book)

So the other day, my sweet love sent me a business-romantic meeting request for a 7-hour "special event" that requires a sitter. I don't really care at this point if it's grocery shopping. He's made it so...intriguing, so...mysterious. I'm ready to grab my cart and go! Actually, he's a great "picker", so I know it will be cool.

Guess I'll go Neti the Drooling Yeti (i.e. irrigate my sinuses).

I need a Tuesdayectomy

Apparently the unpublished price of admission for Vacation Bible School is one fever for each participant, to be distributed immediately to said participant's doting mother. Well, I haven't had Ian and Isaac's fever *yet* but I did acquire a sore throat and a certain bleariness. I suppose it was worth it to observe Ian's carefree joyful participation, albeit his own version of participation - mainly consisting of bunny hops and skillful dance moves around his peer group.

Elijah has been working on some sort of rash for a couple of weeks. At first I thought it was a heat rash because he had little red bumps in his elbow and neck creases. However, since then, its covering his whole body and he's itching like crazy, since last Friday night, at least. Not sure if it's an antibiotic allergy, a virus or just dry itchy skin. The skin under his Tegaderm is breaking down and he scratches at that a lot too. We've experimented with different dressings - Bioclusive and now some Duoderm under his Tegaderm.  I've also wrapped his chest in 3" Kling and made little "wife beater" tanks out of some tube gauze to keep it all contained. All wrapped up like that and sporting some socks on his hands to disable the grabbers, he looks just like a little prize fighter.

Between Isaac's fever and Ian's fever, we took our first overnight "micro-cation" since Elijah was born. We drove up to Dalton Saturday night and stayed in a hotel so we could spend the next day in Chattanooga. Ian had been begging us for  weeks to stay in a hotel. We grabbed Chick-Fil-A on the way up and arrived in time to swim in the pool before bed. The indoor pool deck was incredibly slippery and Isaac slipped and fell three times while walking carefully. The last time, he hit his head and we decided we'd had enough of that. We instead went "swimming" in the room. Our room had a giant whirlpool bath in the corner of the room, so the boys splashed in there for a few minutes.  We actually managed to get Ian to sleep in his own bed. When Brian rolled in the spare bed, Ian thought it was the coolest thing ever and immediately claimed it. The boys jumped on it a bit and when Brian said it was bed time, everyone tried to pile into our Queen-sized "King" bed (we were told it was a King, but sure seemed small). We had to resort to the conniving tactic of starting to offer the extra bed to Isaac to engage Ian's jealousy switch. Ian ultimately decided to take the bed and slept there all night, though only under the condition that I draped an arm down over him.

Sunday, we had a non-adventurous brunch at Five Guys, before continuing to Chattanooga. I forgot to mention, we chose Chatt because Brian's dad is doing some work in Murfreesboro, and it was a good halfway point to hang out. However, he, unsurprisingly was quite a bit faster readying himself than our circus of five, so he actually met us at our hotel. In Chatt., we grunkled** into a walking bridge, so we parked at one end of it for $3, loaded every possible contingency item into our stroller and headed for the bridge (**The term grunkle is a word of Skinner-family origin, meaning to fortuitously encounter something while traveling). It was so hot we were afraid we'd been forgotten at the Second Coming.

Near the foot of the bridge was a sign for a glass bridge to the right. I had to experience that. I hefted the stroller up the ramp and onto the bridge. I paused at the apex and told Ian to climb out of the stroller and look down. I wish I could describe all the thoughts his expression conveyed, but he very quickly found and planted his feet on a spot supported by a steel beam. He was intrigued, but cautious. It really was an interesting experience to stand on such an elevated glass floor. I wonder how that Grand Canyon walkway would be.

We went halfway over the walking bridge and decided it was far too miserable to be outside, so we turned back and decided to go to the aquarium nearby. On the way to the aquarium, we collectively tripped and fell into an ice cream shop. While there we asked a local what our boys might like to do and they pointed us to a kids' science center that was in "walking distance." That was "walking distance" like our bed the night before was a "King." It was a cool place though, and the boys had a blast. The first area had some water activities and a play structure and they could have happily stayed there all day.

For dinner, we went out of our way to go to Famous Dave's. It was glorious and amazing BBQ when we ate there in Omaha, but now we see why so many have closed down. Oh well, that's out of my system now.

On our way home, we were reminiscing about our day, and all the fun we had. We asked Isaac if he had fun that weekend and he said, "yes."  We asked him what his favorite part was and he exclaimed, "Chick-Fil-A! Num num num!"

Yesterday went by in a blur. Not often a day goes so quickly. At one point, Ian was keeping Elijah and me company while I nursed Elijah to sleep. Ian told me, "When I growed into a little baby, I had to go to the doctor and he measured my heart beat and I almost didn't need a poke.  Then I camed home and got bigger and growed teeth and now I have 20 jokes and I need to grow down to a little baby again." I'd like to hear the professional analysis of that. Too funny.

Today has more than made up for yesterday's quickness. Last night, not even a good dose of Benadryl gave Elijah a good sleep. It was one of those nights when I question if I got any sleep at all. Isaac is definitely Two. Lots of big Big BIG emotion. Sometimes he starts wailing and I have no idea why and he won't or can't tell me and will only shriek, "hold me hold me hold me." If I set him down so I can do something so selfish as pee, the wailing starts up again and doesn't stop until I pick him up again.  It gets a little hairy when both Isaac and Elijah insist on being held.  This evening, after Isaac woke up from his nap doing his perma-wail, I finally had to "bribe" him with a peanut butter and chocolate (Nutella) sandwich. He quietly breathed "mm hmm," at the suggestion, so I dove into action. I had previously tried to assess the situation to no avail. "Are you scared?" "No." "Are you hurt?" "No." "Are you lonely?" "No." "Are you hungry?" "No." "Tell me what's the matter, sweetie." "No." So, I had to pull the chocolate out of my bag. "Mm hmm."  Yes! A "yes!" Quick! Somebody get me the Nutella!

The anticipation of a gooey chocolate sandwich apparently did some magic, because I'd no sooner put my knife to work when Isaac cracked a giddy smile and said, "You're happy, Mom!" He ate his sandwich in his typical solemn demeanor. I took the opportunity to change Elijah's diaper and as I turned toward the trash can, I stubbed my toe, yelping a little in pain. Isaac exploded in laughter.  Enjoy, Captain Schadenfreude. This one's on me.

Even The Calgon Ran For Cover

Yes, last week was just that scary. If stars could've had a role, they would have completely un-aligned. Murphy's Law nearly bore my namesake. I completely blame the Chiclets - the ones Elijah is pushing through his gums. I'm still waiting to see if the bottom tooth is a new tooth or a piece of a tooth he lost in the hospital. He nursed so much I'm surprised an adhesion didn't form between his lips and my breast. I got this [ ] much sleep and, boy, was I grrrrr-umpy! The grumpier and/or busier I am, the more destruction the older boys bring down on the house and each other.

I went to bed moping with guilt each night for me beastly behavior, hoping the day wasn't burned in their little sponge brains, forever to damage their self-esteem. Isaac woke up crying a couple nights. One night I heard him crying (and I think clicking his ruby slippers),  You're a nice mommy. You're a nice mommy. Ow! He just stuck a spoon in my heart! I made a sniffly, dribbly vow to myself to restrain my delirious grumpies.

The poor boys were scraping and bruising just about every inch of knee and brain case real estate. It didn't help that the floors were thick with a lava of playthings from the daily toy box eruptions. Even Elijah took his first spill. I watch him like a hawk, but this one happened so quickly that if I were able to shake the guilt off of any particular baby bump incident, this would be the one. The boys were hovering around the tub, awaiting a bath. I set Elijah in a swing, close enough that I could turn my body and bend over to scoop up a handful of toys from the tub. In that moment, Isaac gave the swing a hefty push, which I realized only after I heard the scream from the Elijah-sized heap on the tile floor. I dropped the handful of toys back in the tub and offspring-preserving part of my brain sent me dashing out of the bathroom with Elijah to inspect the damage and be out of thwack's reach of Isaac. Surprisingly, it was just a red mark, hardly raised at all. At first, I was relieved, then I recalled a conversation with a nurse, back when Isaac got his infant head bump from Ian, that a bump going out is much better than a bump going inward. That raced around my mind for a minute, then I reasoned out that the swing hovered not even 6 inches off the ground and he probably didn't hit very hard.

I survived that week, and we had a very nice weekend. I can't seem to bring to mind what it was we did, but a certain pleasantness lingers about it. Monday started off nicely, I had almost finished reading the Abs Diet for Women and semi-started compliant eating habits. I was feeling pretty good about what I could do for myself. The day was just starting to fall apart (i.e. the kids were tired of me trying to clean the house) and Brian's dad showed up just as I was about to roll out the door to go grocery shopping. Yay! Here comes the cavalry! That turned out to be one of the smoother shopping trips I'd had in a while and I hardly knew what to do with all the grown-up conversation.

Today....I'm hungry. I'm not supposed to be hungry. I just haven't figured out how to eat. I blew one of my snacks by being awakened at 0530 by a little munchkin who still seems fixated on his teeth. I was ravenous so I ate. So far, using the provided recipes, I've been hungry an hour after eating. That tells me just how much I would have been eating, say, last week. I'll have to find that page where it tells me what the "free" things are so I can stuff my face some more. I've worked through the hunger, though, and tried to drink water instead, and clean the house. And re-clean the house. Why is it still messy?

I feel like I've been playing nap Whac A Mole with the boys. One is down, two are up. Two go down, one gets up. I noticed it was raining, so while the bulldozers sleep, instead of taking sweet advantage of a great opportunity to repair the house, I sat on the porch with Elijah. Ooh. Sitting is nice. I listened to the soft whisper of the gentle rain and cool breeze. I admired the curious tweets of the birds. I picked at some flaky cradle cap. Thinking, Hey, a quiet moment to blog, I deposited Elijah in his cradle and took his Kickin' Coaster out to the porch (Hey, did I ever mention what a cool seat that is?) . I put Elijah in his seat, grabbed my laptop, and plopped down in a plastic chair. As if on cue, the rain stopped, the breeze stopped and the sun banished its cloud cover. Humph.


whac a mole
i want to use my apologize

Cluster Feeding and Flustered Pleading

I think I'm regressing. I dreamed last night about building a really awesome GeoTrax layout. I guess creativity can strike anywhere. What the hay, I went ahead and gave it a shot and it actually was pretty cool.  I barely got it finished before I had to get back to my cluster-feeder.

Elijah surprised me by sleeping all night, two nights in a row and then began his rampage for milk. For the last 3 days and two nights I've rained milk hourly upon that boy. Somebody please send out the dove! If he's not nursing he's crying from exhaustion - no, wait, that's me.  Meanwhile, the house has collapsed and I think I will too. The "big" boys are bouncing off the walls and employing some desperate attention-getting tactics. All the toys are spilled and all the noises are shrill. Gotta love those growth spurts.

Brian made a funny office joke today and I ran with it.

The Cube-liette (The Cubicle Dungeon): Improving productivity through misery.

Two weekends ago we were trying to decide what we wanted to do. We ended up driving to the theater to see the Disney Oceans movie, but by the time we got there, the boys were asleep so we went to Ikea instead. That night Ian was very disappointed to return home without having seen the movie. This weekend we asked Ian what he wanted to do and he said he wanted to go see the fish movie. We were surprised he remembered it (I don't know why we would be surprised - he remembers everything). We took them to the movie Sunday afternoon and it was pretty good. I think Discovery had better narration and cinematography in their Earth and Life programs. What most amused me was listening to Ian's narration. It was an hour and a half of comments like:

That's a sad song. He's lonely for his mommy.
Ian got distracted with some popcorn and I pointed to the screen, saying, "Manatee." "Yes you may," he replied.
That's Nemo! That's lots of Nemos!
That's loud! Then quiet. Then loud. That's scary loud.
Mom, I can't burp real loud.
Two crabbies! That's a happy crabbie.
I want to leave the movie. I'm done now.




Isaac has better diction than Ian, but then again, Isaac is our little Mockingbird. I was changing Isaac and Ian comes up and says, "Hi Igick." Isaac replies, "I-zick. Can you say 'I-zick?'" Isaac enjoys discovering sound effects and thinking of words to say. He will be puttering with a toy and say, "Say 'pillow'." Ian repeats, "piwow." "Say 'pil-LOW.'" "Piwow." "Say, 'business.'" "Igick, I'm building a dangerous house." He babbles so much, it's unfortunately easy to tune out, so Isaac has turned to saying something, waiting a split second and following up with "I tode-ju...!" Sometimes he even talks over himself to say it. For instance, a 1-minute period may go like this: Fire truck fire truck fire truck. Good night ladies. Good night ladies. I'm go'n leave you now. Ring roun da rosie. Pop goes Isaac! Dinosaur is eating man. I'm going to jump. May I jum - I TODE-JU MAY I JUMP?!


Ian is our Thinker-Builder. He makes curtains for his trolley cars.

He makes toilet-paper capes for his cars. He uses his blocks to build houses with couches and TVs and lamps and slides for his little block "people". He is the boy that sits and pats his friend's back while his friend is being disciplined. Instead of talking about what he will do when he grows up, he says, "When I grow down, I will be a little baby and you will 'nuggle me and hold me and I will laugh and cry, 'wahhh' and nurse you and do all the fings I can do. He went to "check" on "Bebe 'Lijah" lying in his Kickin' Coaster (an AWESOME baby seat, by the way) and inspected his toes and said, "This piggy went to market, this piggy stayed with Dad, this piggy laughed, 'ooh hoo ha ha,' [skipping a toe] an' dis piggy runned away."

I've been loving my crazy new birthday shoes.

I actually exchanged these for ones with more foot coverage, but you get the idea. They are called Vibram Five Fingers. I won't go into all the foot-health benefits they claim, but they are fun and about as close to painless barefooting one can get without years of rigorous callous-building. I run around with the boys in the backyard with them and feel a little giddy. I glide (at least in my mind) across the bumps and dips of the terrain and feel agile and sure-footed, unlike the guesswork of running in regular shoes. We went to Line Creek last weekend and I tromped seamlessly from rocky-rooty trail to slipery-cool streambed. I couldn't resist sneaking out of the water for a moment to hit a creek-side trail like a swift ninja. Nevermind the 32-year-old mommy-body bounding down the path with more undulation than typically present in a ninja. That was somebody else.

This week has been a blast

Spring is here and the diapers haven't even melted yet. Every morning I've been playing Waffle House with my new cast iron two-burner griddle. The item apparently on the boys' menu is pancakes. I mixed it up one day and made them SpongeBob Eggs.

Isaac ate his right up, but Ian only wanted to talk to his. I finally cut it into pieces and said it was a Sponge Bob puzzle for his belly to do.


Elijah had his PET/CT scans last Tuesday. They looked quite clear and he will start his maintenance course of chemo on next Tuesday - yay!  That means we have to go up only once every 3 weeks.


I'm a million years behind on my documentation, so here is a quick run-down of items for the personal archives - no story line, no fancy transitions - nothing.


One day, I hear from the shower, "Bong! Bong!" "Ouch, Ian! That's not a bell!!"  I'll let your imagination fill in the details.


Ian has the most adorable new word.  I'll use it in a sentence.  "Ian, where are your shoes?" "I don't underknow." He does have a way of phrasing things quite effectively. We've had the pleasure of entertaining a stomach virus at our house this week. Ian told me his tummy hurt. I asked him if it hurt like he had to poop. He laid on the floor and said, "It hurts like I want to lay right here until I get up." That's pretty much exactly my sentiment.


I taught Ian about Elijah's soft spot on his head. I described that it is a place on his head that has no bone yet. When Brian came home,  Ian said, "Elijah doesn't have any bones there. I gived him one of my bones so he could be safe."


While playing outside one evening, Isaac looked up at the crescent in the sky and exclaimed, "The moon is chomped!"


Ian likes to make random announcements to invisible spectators. One time while playing blocks with him, Ian stood up and faced his audience saying, "Hi, my name is Ian. I'm building a tower and this (motioning) is my best friend, Mom."


While on a walk, we acknowledged Ian's friendly gesture of waving to a passing car. He said, "I was a gentleman!"


Actual Seuss line: This one I think is called a Yink. He likes to wink. He likes to drink. Ian's version: ...he likes to drink and have fun with the guys.


Ian coughed & said. "I'm ok." He coughed again and said, "I'm ok again." He coughed a third time & said, "I'm ok a six time."


I'm really anxious for Isaac to decide to potty train. Every so often I bring up the subject. During a really messy change, I asked Isaac, "Would you like to try using the potty? Having poop in your diaper must feel so uncomfortable." "No." "What if I got you a little potty just your size?" "No." "We have a little green potty and a little white potty with stickers!" "(pointing to the supplies) Get mine clean diaper!"


One time Ian inspected Elijah's toes and kissed his head and hugged his belly and said "I'm just right for him." And, he sure is! He adores his baby brother and takes the best care of him.


I think that about covers it.


Brian's dad has had the enjoyment of rolling into town during our "potty relay" week. We're probably loads of fun, but I'm sure glad he's here! He's keeping the boys alive while I lie curled up in bed, trying to contain my innards. When the big boys woke up yesterday, I told Ian to go find Grandpa and he'd make them breakfast. Ian replied, "No, I'll find you and you'll make me breakfast."  I tried to remind him that Grandpa loves cooking and, "he'll make it just like you like it." "No, he won't!" Ian protested. "He'll make it too spicy!" Later in the kitchen, Ian was still not convinced, as Grandpa started some pancakes. "Look, Grandpa is making you tasty pancakes!" "No! He'll make them crunchy!" I'm not sure why that would be a problem. As I mentioned in a previous post, he seems to have a taste for blackened pancakes.


The three oldest men in the house have gone off in search of Pedialyte and Preggie Pops, two delicacies for our nauseous, dehydrated selves to enjoy. I was going to nap with Isaac and Elijah, but Elijah decided I would stay up. Ahh, the best-laid plans. 

The Elijah Cannon: Part 4, Treatment Begins

I was amazed by the size of the CHOA Egleston NICU, the quietness of it, the professionalism, and the hosptality. We could tell immediately that they had "it" figured out here. They understood that the experience was more than a baby in a bed - that each baby comes with a family, and each family comes with fears and needs. We were almost immediately grateful for the transfer. We came to realize that we never really had that "left to dangle" feeling. It seems like down almost every hallway, someone would stop to introduce themselves and genuinely address our emotional and physical needs. A social worker spoke with me first and let me cry out Elijah's story on her shoulder. She addressed the issue of finding a way to spend time with each of my children that I could feel good about. She provided us resources for trying to find a place to stay and ways to try to get financial aid. Then a chaplain met with us. Then an ambassador. They've all been very accessible and in regular contact. Every nurse and doctor explains what they are doing to Elijah, as well as what steps they are taking to ensure his comfort and safety. If we are away, they call us on our cell phones to keep us posted. They treat Elijah with gentleness and compassion and us with respect. They encourage our involvement in his care and help us feel important to the process. They've done the neatest "extra" things too. They gave us a journal to write in, and occasionally, the nurses write a note in it from them or from Elijah. I was also given some Mommy Love Squares - crocheted squares I can wear close to my heart and leave with Elijah so he has my scent near him when I'm away. One nurse also made Ian a big brother book out of photos she had taken of Elijah, and wrote a story in it and illustrated it with some stickers and scrapbook supplies.

The facility has sleep rooms, handed out nightly on a lottery basis. We tried that for a couple nights, until we decided it was more beneficial to sleep at home. They have showers, lockers, laundry machines, a work out room, pumping rooms for breastfeeding moms, a business center, a snack room, a library, classrooms and more. Parents get very discounted meals and parking, and breastfeeding moms get free meals.

By the following Monday, Elijah had a Central Venous Catheter surgically implanted, a bone marrow biopsy taken, and an X-Ray, PET scan and MRI. Tuesday, he started chemotherapy with Vinblastine to be given weekly and Prednisone given daily. The tests confirmed lung, lymph, bone marrow and possibly spleen involvement. That was hard to swallow, but by then we already knew that the initial treatment would be the same, regardless. We also understood that this chemotherapy was different than cancer chemotherapy, in that with cancer, treatment starts aggressively, whereas with LCH, treatment is started slowly and built up as needed. His side effects were expected to be minimal with the low doses he gets.

Elijah had been intubated for the surgery, but when they tried to extubate him, he didn't do very well, so they put the breathing tube back in. A bronchoscopy showed significant swelling and lesions in his upper airway, which were restricting his breathing ability. He also got a blood transfusion to try to give his system a boost. After his first dose of chemo, on Tuesday, January 26, his skin actually seemed to look a little worse, which wasn't an unusual response. Wednesday night, our pastor and some church elders came in to pray with us and Elijah for his healing, and read from James 5. It's ironic and reassuring that the passage speaks of the great prophet Elijah's faith.

I don't know why, of all the times I contemplated it, I chose that night to finally show Ian and Isaac pictures of Elijah. I'd been trying to hold off for Elijah to look "good", but enough people convinced me that at least Ian could understand and "handle" the idea that Elijah needs some special medicine and help from the doctors and nurses. I did choose one of his earlier photos, when he had more spots, but just a feeding tube. The boys loved the pictures and didn't seem at all concerned about how he looked. It felt so good to "introduce" their new brother to them. Ian said, "Come out of the picture, baby Elijah!" He hugged the picture to his chest for quite a while, occasionally looking at it or kissing it. The next morning I got some tape and Ian taped the photos to the wall. Throughout the next days, he would occasionally move them all to a different wall. Sometimes one of the boys would pull down a picture and carry it around for a while.

Shortly after, we were talking to one of the neonatologists, and he arranged to sneak Ian in for a visit. Ian thought it was very cool to wear the special mask, and he climbed up on the chair at Elijah's bedside and gently touched his leg and belly. He seemed captivated. He looked all around at the machines. Elijah was on a ventilator at this point and Ian pointed to the screen and said, "This goes all the way to baby Elijah". He got down and inspected the bed and the drawers and wheels and buttons. He stayed so quiet and gentle. It's frequently hard to tell what Ian thinks of something. When we asked him what he thought of Elijah, Ian said, "He's good."

Friday was the first time I'd really seen Elijah smile. He must have grinned because he was hatching a plan. That night, he surprised us by losing a tooth we didn't realize he had. Then, on Monday, he extubated himself and was breathing more calmly than I'd ever seen him breathe since he was born. By Tuesday, his nasal canula was removed and he was breathing great on room air. That day, he had his second dose of chemo. Wednesday, he was moved into a regular crib. His tube feedings of breast milk were gradually increasing. Friday, we joined our church family in a day of fasting and prayer for Elijah's healing. That night, he was moved to the step-down unit. On February 9, he had his third dose of chemo and the next day, his Morphine was discontinued, since he hadn't needed any in a while.

By Friday, February 12, Elijah was in great shape. He was up to full gravity feeds and was having success with small bottle and breast feeds. He was spending a lot of time alert, happy and active. I felt pretty spoiled, coming in every day and holding him for hours, talking to him, singing to him, smelling him, and soaking him up. Very early Saturday morning, we got a very surprising call. Elijah was back on the ventilator. They weren't exactly sure what the problem was, but Elijah had been cranky, breathing hard, and grunting. They suspected sepsis. Hours later, we got another update that he was not septic, but instead had a pneumothorax. One of the LCH "bubbles" in his left lung had burst, causing air to escape from his lung into the space around his lungs, collapsing his lung. They aspirated the air out with a needle and observed him for a while, but eventually inserted a chest tube. Later, we were shown the X-Ray, and were amazed to see that the lung had collapsed over so far it was pushing his heart into the right side of his body. His body had compensated really well for the event; apparently he had gotten just a little pale and mottled, but didn't have a really severe reaction. That probably had a lot to do with the staff being so attentive and moving quickly to his aid.

Saturday, we had a big snow, for our part of the state. We couldn't safely get to the hospital to see Elijah, and maybe it was just as well, since we would have felt the need to go, even though he would have been sedated all day and not looking so well. Sunday, Brian, his mom, the boys and I all drove up to see him. We took turns keeping the boys distracted while the grown-ups visited with Elijah. He was pretty alert and seemed as comfortable as could be. We pretty much plowed through the fact that it was Valentine's Day, and Elijah's 1-month birthday. Holidays have pretty much shriveled up into meaninglessness these days. Brian and I did make a point the week before to try to have a dinner date, but we couldn't really shake the cloud over our head. We just talked about our poor little boys the whole time.

Monday, the 15th, around noon, Elijah was extubated and has handled that fine so far. The next step is to get the chest tube out, when the X-Ray shows no more air in the wrong spot. His chest tube is currently on water seal, which means the suction is off. He handled his first full gravity feed, since his pneumothorax just fine.  I imagine, or at least the hope is, he'll progress to back where he was last Friday, and we'll start those scary/exciting discharge discussions again. It's relieving that this happened while he was still here, but it's very scary to think there might be other time bombs in his lungs, that we may carry home with us at some point.

My brain doesn't really know what to do with all of this. I'm craving a home life with the 5 of us together, but I fear it too. There will probably be months and years of wondering if he'll ultimately be okay. He's been a strong boy since birth, yet so fragile too, at the mercy of the beast in his body. I have no doubt, watching him go through all of this, recovering so well over and over, that God is holding His little boy in His hands and has plans for him. It crushes me to see what he has endured, not seeing an end on the horizon, knowing he's been a month on this earth and has experienced only the sights and smells of the hospital. I crave for him to know what it's like to have two bigger brothers kissing on him, and to spend his days and nights nursing at his mother's breast and dancing in his father's arms. Some days I feel assured it will happen. Other days, I make the mistake of reading too much about other kids' losing battles with LCH, forgetting that their fate has nothing to do with his, and dread that there will be a terrible backslide. He is an amazing little boy with an awesome God. I cling tightly to the promises that God is my strength and my refuge. I remind myself to be still and know that I am God. I feel fairly certain of what I can and cannot handle, but only God knows, and He will carry us through this journey, as He carries us now. He will be glorified through this.

I can already see some of the beauty in this. Completely unrelated social circles of ours, as well as those of our friends and family, have united to support us and pray for this little guy. Strangers and acquaintances from a web board I frequent spent a week bringing us lunches. Our church is still blessing us with dinners that we can pull out of the freezer and heat. We have received cards, emails, prayers and prayer blankets from around the country - the world even. We've been told of people who do not customarily pray, who are now praying for Elijah. Heaven knows this child's name! I choose to believe that little Elijah is surrounded by a bastion of mighty angels, sent from the Father, who loves this boy more than I could ever aspire to.

Rainy Day Ramble

Hooray!  For two days now, I've kept the house unusually clean.  Go me.  But, it's not without that acid-reflux sheen that gives everything a warm glow. I don't expect to do a lot of posting this week, while getting my act together for Ian's birthday "party".  The boys helped me make some gingerbread men and trees, a few of which I might use on his cake. I don't intend to do any real, invite-all-the-friends parties for as long as I can get away with it. Is that Scroogey?  He's so thrilled with family parties now, why mess with what works? He's been having us read his Thomas the Tank Engine story about Thomas' birthday -- Thomas wanted presents, balloons and silly hats, so that's what Ian wants too.

Yesterday wasn't so special.  I was a grump.  Sure, I'm tired and feeling huge and uncomfortable, but I never feel justified in snapping at the boys so much.  It seemed like things were constantly being inappropriately spilled out, splashed in, stomped on, torn up, wadded up, knocked over, thrown down and whatnot, and I think each time I had a nuclear meltdown.  Why did it seem like my 3-y/o was the grownup here?  He kept softly cooling my jets with little phrases like, "Mommy, do you feel frustrated? I'm here."  "Mommy, you are soooo sorry for yelling."  "Yes, I am so sorry for yelling at you," I'd say.  "I'm soooo sorry too.  I love you sooo much," he'd reply.  "I'm sooo sorry about that, Mom. It was and acc'ent" I felt like an even bigger monster after all his cuteness. [Sigh.] Today will be better.

The boys had me read a couple stories before breakfast. Isaac wanted a truck book. He points to one and says "Car pa-po-ter," correctly labeling the car transporter. He also recognized the "duh truck," "deer [skid steer],"loader," and "tra-ter [tractor]."  These boys know more about trucks than I do.

We recently made hand puppets with paper bags, glue sticks, googly eyes, pom-poms & crayons.  Glue was a new concept for them. Isaac kept trying to disassemble his before it would dry. Ian felt he had a bad start and said his puppet was Isaac's and traded bags with him.  They turned out pretty cute.  Ian still liked Isaac's better in the end, but he had fun making them talk and dance.  The next day, they took Isaac's apart together.

It's a rainy, chilly day.  Ian keeps taking off his robe and then telling me how cold he is. Then he tells me, "I want the green blanket.  I want a green tent, actu-wy."  I see lots of story-reading in my near future.