Taking a Breath

This morning, I just really need to catch my breath for just a moment.

Since Christmas, I have been exceptionally busy with two conference submission deadlines, prepping a new graduate class, and two respiratory infections with the squirrel.  I have three peer reviews I am working on, two of which are late.  (JoAnn and Ann--I swear, I'm finishing them up today and tomorrow).  I've worked every weekend and most nights and I'm not sure I've had one whole day where I wasn't up early (5ish) and working late in over 3 weeks.

Dadgum.

The house looks like it's been invaded by a fraternity.  Shaun the Sweep is afraid to come off of his docking station.  It's so messy that I thought a cat paw playing with a fake snow ball was a bug.

And poor little squirrel.  She is having a rough time.  She had her second respiratory virus over the weekend.  We had some crap ass numbers on her O2.  Sunday morning she was in the low 90s and upper 80s until she had her treatment and coughed up some stuff.  She's going gung-ho most of the day and then she crashes and her lungs catch up.  We sent her to school this morning, but I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't come home early.

And she's really, really not liking school right now.  I'm really  glad we decided to "Red Shirt" the twins.  And really, that is what it is.  We recognize their academic potential and feel like we'll help it better by letting them have a bit more time to mature.

((A good deal of time spent staring off into space))

Ok.  I am really struggling with how to write this. I have things I need to "journal"/blog about, but I feel protective about both Christopher, Bridget, and their wonderful teacher (Oh, btw, The  Daily Beast says blogging is dead. Sucks to be me, I guess)  I want to share information about the struggles and triumphs of the twins, and I am very protective that someone will place the responsibility on their teacher, when in fact, I think what we're dealing with is normal (or maybe not) kid stuff.

We are working closely with their teacher on some of  their struggles (particularly Bridget's) and we're all on the same page  with the same goal.  We also imagine that what may be our goal: "Oh, we're red shirting them; if they don't do well we aren't bothered" could cause our teacher to be poorly evaluated "What  do you mean two children didn't do well.  What kind of teacher are you!?" Right???  That's not fair to her!!  So we're all documenting our choices and working together to make sure everyone is fairly evaluated.

But little squirrel is having some problems.  For the past three weeks, she has been HYSTERICAL about going to school.  Monday mornings, especially, she gets into a hysterical crying spree.  And this isn't a fake cry. This is red, splotchy face, snot coming out the nose, nearly inconsolable hysterical.  And it's about math.  Kindergarten math!!  1+1=2 math!!

I know I'm biased about what I believe about Bridget (and Christopher) so I have to back up a bit. And make some confessions.  First, last summer, we took  the twins in for "testing" to make sure it was a good idea to put them in the same classroom.  For instance, there are going to be natural comparisons between twins about their performance.  Both of them have strengths that the other doesn't.  Is there such a difference we should  be concerned about putting them in the same classroom?  We told them they were being tested to figure out where they should sit for kindergarten.
The results were good and fine.  Christopher's scores put him close enough to Talent Development that I won't be  surprised if he gets in later.  Bridget's scores put her in "average to high average" except for one scale.  She scored 99th percentile in Fluid Intelligence, which means she picks up new things very, very quickly.  That  last link is why we think Bridget is going to be a lawyer some day.  She's always working out the logic of something and is not afraid to share her views on any and sundry topic.

But math requires sitting there and thinking and working and struggling.  At least it does for me, and I was and am very good at math.  It's funny that her teacher says that if she shows Bridget blocks  of color for math (2 red and 1 white), Bridget can make answer the question instantaneously.  But 2+1 on a math worksheet  is not as easy for her. Yes, it has occurred to us that she may have some "differences in learning style" that we might need to address.  And if anyone wants to share some parenting experience on this, we'd love to hear it!!  I don't know how I'd live without step-ahead parent mentors.

So this morning, when she was just losing it at 6 am just over the thought of going to school, I did a little Mom coaching.  She's so tiny that I can actually still scoop her up in my lap, hug her tight and she's not much bigger than a cat. We talked about how easily she learned to ride a bike and how hard, actually, it was for Conor to learn.  We talked about how Conor cried when he was learning to play the piano because it was so hard and we'd told him about it  being hard to ride a bike at first and he had to practice and then it was easy.  The same is true for Conor now and piano playing: he plays well now but he had to work at it.  She may have  to work at math before it's easy.  

I told Bridget that I was really smart because I worked hard not because it was easy for me.  ((I was one of those kids who actually did study in high school.  Everyone else I know said they never cracked a book and got all As.  I meanwhile studied over breaks!!  "Smart" was never easy for me)) I told her that I had to work hard at math and a lot of times I didn't understand it, but  if I thought it was like a puzzle I could figure  it it.  I told her (true story!) that Daddy didn't well in high school, and it was only in college when he met a girl who studied a lot that he became "smart" because he worked hard (studying with this girl, dontcha know). We talked a lot about how people think "smart" means it's easy when really "smart" means it's difficult you work hard.

It's funny that on their spelling tests, Christopher can get 3/11 and could not actually care less.  Bridget, on the other hand, gets 9/11 and she wails at how horrible she's doing. IN KINDERGARTEN!!!  (I should note at this point that even though Christopher scored close enough on his tests that TD is not out of the picture, he'll do just fine repeating Kindergarten)

I don't know.  I'm not a Kindergarten teacher.  Is 2+1 obvious?  Or at some point, do you actually  have to think?  Is she frustrated because it's not as quick for her as she thinks it is for other people and thus she's giving up?  Or does have a  learning difference we ought to address?  (Her quickness at the different colored  blocks makes me think this is possible) Can't we just Let It Go for this red shirted year and worry about it next year?

Parenting is hard, y'all!!

Parenting twins is hard.  Parenting when you've got clever children is hard. Parenting clever children who are having problems is hard. Parenting in a house that looks like it's on Fraternity Row is hard.  Parenting on broken sleep because you keep making sure the pulse oximeter is over 90 in the middle of the night is hard.  And parenting when you get a shot of adrenaline at midnight because it's actually 92 is hard.  Parenting, when your entire heart is hanging out in three different people at an elementary school, is hard.

God(dess), I love those children so much.

Taking a deep breath. And going to go review some papers now.

All Better

I know the only people reading a blog on a Friday night are goobers who don't have plans  beyond a few glasses of wine and a family movie on Netflix.

JUST LIKE ME!!

This is your tribe, people.

So, yes, I am feeling very relieved.  We talked to the pulminologist today and saw  the pediatrician.  And it appears that, indeed, last night's hellish bad numbers were the trough.  And Bridget  is getting better.  After she and I both took a long nap this afternoon, her  numbers are *stellar*.  Either the prednisone kicked in or she coughed up that big loogie of a lung bugger that was blocking her airways.

IMAGES OF BEAUTY AND JOY!!

And now that the crisis is over, my family is annoying the freaking hell out of me.  I have been so freakingly freaking effed the freak stressed this week.  I've had little sleep and accomplished less work in a time of the school year when I need productivity and smart thoughts to be shooting out of every orifice.

Of course, I had to focus on the Squirrel.  I wanted to be there for her.  But we're out of the woods. And I want them all to STOP YELLING and BE QUIET and CLEAN UP and Let me have a moment to myself. DO THEY HAVE TO EAT EVERY DAY!?!?!

5 minutes.  Just let me have some peace and quiet and healing for FIVE FREAKING MINUTES.

And now you see why, after being Super Mom for the last 5 days, I will never, ever, ever, ever win Mother Of The Year.

Bargaining with Pulse Oximeter Numbers

I've noticed a trend among mother' named Anita with crazy curly hair.  Ok Me. This is all me.  This all crazy me.  This is all crazy me and why people with mild anxiety should not have data producting instruments that can freak them out.

So when Bridget first gets sick, I worry because  her O2 numbers start to hang around 96. I generally consider this a "B grade" amount of oxygen. I'm a professor. I think in terms of grades.  I prefer As.  I'm a professor!  As I tell my undergrads, Bs are not a problem, but I also know it's not typical for her and something is going on in her lungs.

Then as she starts getting sicker and her  numbers get lower, I get so excited when I see  a 96.  When 96 makes me relieved instead of worried, then we have  problems. That's when I turn into some kind of reverse auctioneer trying to will her numbers higher.

Can I get a 95? 95? 95? Sold at 95!  At least it's not a 94.

Oh, I see a 94.  94? 94? 94? 95!!! Oh, back to 94.  And holding.  Well, we're still above 93.

Oh, I got a 93. 93.  93. 94. 93.  93. 93.  96!!! 95!! 94...93.  93.  93.  At least it's not 92.

And so on.

Sometimes I try to sneak up on the numbers.  Usually this game is  going on during the night and I'll close my eyes for a few minutes and then sneak a peak.  This is good when I spot a 94 or a 95 and pretty adrenaline shooting shitty when it's a 91.

We are doing all the right things we can do at home.  We started prednisone at the right time, definitely not too soon and definitely not for shits and giggles.  Yesterday was great.  Bridge had lots of energy and great numbers.  And she wasn't coughing much. ((Cue the foreboding music.))  I had to teach last night and just before I left she had a coughing fit that caused some 80s to show up on her pulse ox.***  ((again, haven't seen that since the last hospital visit))  Dave texted me in class that her numbers  were all high 90s!!!  ((He is  not a crazy, curly headed, slightly anxious woman))

She was in bed by the time I got home and when I checked her numbers they were an extremely steady 93.  When asked how he could explain the discrepancy from the texts and the numbers, Dave shrugged and said "You?!"

Probably.

She spent more time in the low 90s, even with all my reverse bargaining.  This morning when I woke up she was hanging in the upper 80s and low 90s.  We did a full treatment at 4:30 am an now she's back asleep, ironically at 96.

I'm not excited about that number (Still!!  So difficult to please) mainly because it's  the max now, not the min.

I don't know what's going to happen.  We've never been here before. We've either started the prednisone in the hospital or used it when there was no need.  We are definitely doing the right things here at home.  I just don't know what's happening inside her lungs and whether her funky hypsersecreious asthma doesn't give two flying fig newtons about that extra prednisone  as it fills her lungs with gunk.  ((That is what I think happens when she stops coughing for a period of time.  The gunk is  filling up her the bottom of her lungs and causing atelectasis))

And now you know.

Still hanging at  96.  Sold!  To the whackadoodle mama in her Hello Kitty pjs.

UPDATED: And as is what always happens when I'm bargaining/bidding, the numbers are still going down and I should have locked it in at that better price.  I'm sure there will be more updates in the future.

***Please!   Someone draw me a pulse ox!!

Enterovirus D68.....*Maybe*

I do not want to hysterically claim that  Bridget has EV D68!! Bridget has EV D68!! We have no idea.  It's *possible* she does. And she will not be tested for it because she is not going to PICU.  In fact, she is not going to the hospital (thank you, starting prednisone early enough!!!)

But we do know she has one of the bad respiratory viruses.  And we know that EV D68 is  in Charlotte, along with RSV, the Flu, and "A Flu Like Virus." (Actual CDC tests paid for by the hospitals say so)  And through the process  of elimination, it seems more likely to be an enterovirus than the other ones.

How come?

Croupy cough at  the beginning signalling "something."  Low grade fever at 100.  Most docs don't even count that as a fever.  Puking at school. (LOVELY!) and complaining of a stomach ache the entire time.  Gas that could bring chili-bingeing sumo wrestlers to their knees.  (LORD!) And that cough.  That mucus-y, body shaking cough.

I think Bridget is going to stay out of the hospital for a couple of reasons.  First, that child can cough.  Even when it burns and stings, she continues  to cough.  I'm very proud of her.  It hurts.  It tires her. But she keeps coughing.

Second, I credit the emergency prednisone our pulminologist gave us.  EVD68 is infamous for turning bad quickly.  For most of the week, Bridget's O2 has stayed around the upper 90s with a low  around 95 to 96.  That's  fine. Then last night, her max was a 95 and she was hanging at 92 to 93.  That's not a number with which to rush to the hospital.  But we've seen that trend before.  The she started dipping into the 80s and flirting with  some steady 90 readings.  Them there are  hospital numbers.

So I broke open the emergency prednisone (or unscrewed the childproof  top) and dosed her up.  6 hours later (I think that's how long it takes to work???), she has back up to 96 asleep and 98 awake.

We'll see what happens this afternoon and tonight.

So far, with the previous trips to the hospital, we didn't start prednisone until we ARRIVED and her lungs were full of crap.  I'm really hoping that  we're ahead of the curve here and will keep ahead of, on top of, and/or out of the way of the phlegm in her lungs.

I really think we're going to be ok.

Of Winter Celebrations, Christmas Pageants and Playing Possum

Yesterday was busy. It started, work-wise, with a very exciting validation of a model I've been working on for 3 years. Honestly, I tried to explain to Dave why this was so exciting and apart from telling him when to smile and act enthusiastic, it’s hard for civilians to get excited about academia/research. (((sigh)))

IN MORE ACCESSIBLE NEWS, the twinnies had their winter celebration yesterday. This generally involves getting to meet the other parents and listening to the children sing in French. (As they are in French School). In the first clip, there is an amazing surprise at the end that I am honestly shocked that the twins ((cough, cough, Bridget)) could keep secret. Bridget is on the right and Christopher is just behind her on the left.

Last night was our church Christmas pageant. This year we moved from the sanctuary (no pictures or applause) to Heaton Hall (pictures, applause, laughter). The kids also did a new play, indeed, the World Premiere of Erica McGee’s No Room At The Holiday Inn. It was a sweet, fun play connecting the birth of Jesus to modern day lives. Erica’s a goddess of children’s theater and singing. It was truly fun and meaningful.

And here are a few pictures:

Conor playing The First Noel before the play started. The tone of his playing was impressive. I was so proud of him!!

Some sheep you might know looking very adorable.

Joseph, aka, my son.

And the final song, A Thousand Points of Light. I think this song is an original song written for our church a couple of years ago. It is a huge favorite among the kids and the families. And this year, the actors were allowed to “free dance” the song because it is really that joyful. One might note that one particular sheep was dancing and prancing all over her pasture, while Joseph got down in the middle of the stage and even broke out some Jazz hands.

Then, after the show, the LBGT group at our church sponsored the dessert reception. It was dang tasty. And about halfway through it, Queen Elsa and Princess Anna showed up. The gays throw the best parties, even at church.

It was an amazing day. Then Dave and I walked out of the church, looked at each other, and said, “Somebody is going to be crying on the way home.” Dave took the least likely one to cry in his car, and I got the twins. I swear to dog, the minivan doors were still sliding shut when Christopher began WAILING about how he didn’t get enough candy (school party, stocking of candy, dessert party) and BRIDGET AT MORE!!! It wasn’t FAIIIIIRRRRR!!

I wish I could say I handled it better than I did. I actually did well for the first half of the trip. And then I screeched at volume I did not know was possible. The crying stopped, but it wasn’t the right parenting behavior.

So we got home, STARTED homework, and did a few chores. And looked out the door. Our back door is mostly glass and gives us a good view of the goings on in the backyard. There is a doggie door beside it and, Sweet Baby Lemur, Dave had already shut it to keep the cats in for the night.

Because standing there, at the back door, in all his white fur glory was Patches, with a dead possum in his mouth. He was bringing us a gift!! Just like the cats do!!!

Screaming ensued.

Dave got Patches to drop the possum on the porch and brought the dog inside. Please pause for a minute, and JUST IMAGINE if Patches had brought that in the doggie door. When you have stopped jumping up and down and flapping your hands, you may continue reading.

So Dave and I stared through the door at the slobber covered possum on our back porch wondering whether it was alive or not. (You know, “playing possum.”) Patches in the meantime was SO PROUD of himself. He was poking Fred with his snout. Jumping around Fred with his paws. And basically saying “TOP THAT RAT, SUCKA!” Fred had no reaction because, you know, cats’ brains are not as developed and gloating is not one of the four emotions they experience.

We concluded that the possum wasn't playing and was actually dead, so Dave went to get a shovel and a contractor bag to put the dead possum in. I stayed inside the house and supervised through the door.

Dave had to open the contractor bag because those things are big and thick. So he gave it a hard flap that was, in fact, quite loud. The possum lifted his head. To make sure this was not some sort of death twitch, Dave flapped the bag again and the possum lifted his head even higher and looked right at him.

New possum fact! They will play dead until some extremely loud and odd noise is made near them.

Dave slowly backed away and put the shove and bag back in the garage.

It took about 45 more minutes before the opossum finally figured out it was safe enough to leave. We could tell because Patches was barking persistently and loudly and I can honestly tell you that he was saying “MY BIG WHITE RAT IS GETTING AWAY!!!”

By this point, of course, both twins were crying and Conor was sulking that the only reason I told him he played well was because I am his mother. The good news, of course, is that once we got all three kids in bed, they fell asleep in less than 10 seconds. HOORAY! It’s just that hellish time when they are overly tired and ALONE WITH US that sucks.

The rest of the day, possum included, pretty much rocked.

The First Family Nutcracker

I  took the twinnies  to the Nutcracker yesterday.  It's actually  the first  time I've  ever seen it in person and it  was wonderful.  The twinnies wanted  to see  if because  Bridget had checked The Nutcracker book out of the library and became enchanted  with the story.

So we  went.

Highlights of  the production:

During the overture, when the music is  playing, the curtain is  down, and no one is  dancing:
"What *IS* this?"

When the Nutcracker stabs the Rat King, both twins were very upset:
"Is he dead? Did  he just kill him? I mean, like is he  a person and now he's DEAD!?"
((Bridget  was about to  sob by this point))

Speaking of Bridget, she  was  not aware that  the seats rise when you stand up  and twice  tumbled  down the row  of   seats onto the  floor.   She was very  embarrassed, but it was  so  freaking cute?

I  sneaked in cookies.  As  soon as the curtain rose:
"When can we  have  our snack?!?!"
"Halftime."

When the snow  and the snow  queen were  dancing and it  was snowing pretty hard on the stage:
"They are crazy! Why  are  they dancing in the fweezing  cold!?!"

And the general  gloating:
"We are  up SO LATE!! We are up  later than Conor!!"

Christopher  asked  for  us  to  do  this every year.  It was a lot  of  fun and I  have  to  agree, it's  going to  become a  family  tradition.   Who could  resist  this cuteness?

Death and Life

Conor didn't know about Stampy's death until he came home last night. In the morning, he had told  me he was worried that Stampy was sleeping so much and I brushed him off. It was only when I  deposited the Roomba for a quick clean of the boys' room did I understand what this "sleeping" was.

Thank goodness. That would have been a horrible day for Conor at school.

He was very upset. And obviously, he felt very guilty.  We all agreed to wait a bit before re-gerbiling.  I hope Santa's stocking gift of a clear water bottle helps excite him again.

In other rodent death news......

this dead mouse is what I found while cleaning some clothes off a chair in our bedroom.  J'accuse, Fred.  J'accuse. Especially when Fred had taken a very new interest in lying on top of the clothes and sleeping throughout the night.  

Unfortunately, I've come to expect these sorts of adventures with Fred in the house. Indeed, the second shriek of the day occurred when I found the the giant  (plastic) ant the kids had hidden on the top of the dresser.  The physical and emotional reaction has become so natural, I couldn't even touch it and made Dave move the giant plastic ant so I could keep cleaning. 

In a more delight-in-death news, our Thanksgiving Turkey was a hit this year! BACON FOR THE WIN!!

Start with some apples and sage.....

cover in bacon.....

die and go to heaven.

This one is a definite repeat. In fact, we might repeat it at Christmas!! The bacon alone is pure heaven.

I'm sure it's distasteful to link gerbil/mouse death with eating turkey. But we're on an urban farm around here and I was a strict vegetarian for 7 years. No need to sugar coat what we're doing when we eat meat. Coat it in bacon. It is very tasteful, indeed.  

Gerbil Deaths

Ugh.

Shit.

Ugh.

Stampy Longnose, the final  gerbil from  Conor's  birthday died  this morning.  And unfortunately, we  can't  blame the cat.  Conor forgot  to give that  poor, sweet  gerbil  water.   And Dave and I forgot  to  supervise our dear son in the care of  his new  pets. And now  we've  lost  Stampy.

Pet deaths  suck.  Even if they are  rodents.

Anne Lamott  has a great article in Salon today  about the natural co-existence  of anger and guilt.  I  was initially  extremely angry  at Conor for forgetting to  water his one remaining gerbil.  Then I  realized I was feeling incredibly guilty for  not supervising Conor better and not  giving Stampy  water myself.  And then I realized that  I  was  able  to  keep  my gerbils in water, when I was a girl, because of  the huge clear watering bottle that was so prominent in their cage.  The watering bottle  in this cage is  small, blue, and in the back.  There are real human factors errors with it, in addition to  the human errors we  obviously had.

In any case, Conor  is going to have  a new  responsibility, which Dave and I can clearly supervise, of maintaining the water  for  the cats and the dog  for the next 3 weeks.   And then we'll see  if  Santa  will bring a bigger, better,  CLEAR water  bottle  for  the front  of  the gerbils cage.

Our Roomba

Wow!  Two blog  posts in two  days!   And it's  the second of December.  Maybe I'll  make NoMoRoPo (or  whatever it  is for  writing in November)  DoReMeSo  and post every day  in December.

ANYHOO......

The Roomba.   Or as we are calling it:  Shaun the Sweep  (Dave gets credit  for that!)

YEAH!

So if  you  are  people  who vacuum and/or sweep frequently  or even occasionally, you  probably don't  need this.  But if you are  like  us  and the kids  and  the  animals are  all amazed every  time  they  see  a broom or a vacuum,  this  appliance  might  be  for you.

So  questions folks have  asked: Does  it get  corners?     Does  it  get  the whole  room?  Does it  work on wood floors  and area  carpets?   Does  it actually  work?

*Yes  (and  gets  all the way  under  sofas  and beds and dressers)
*Yes (it takes a long time, like an hour  when you'd  take 15 minutes.  But  that's  an  hour you're  doing something else)
*Yes! It adjusts to carpets and wooden floors  and tiles and even gets  this funky, dirty welcome mat  we  have
*Yes, it  actually  works.  In  fact  it  works  a lot  like  this:

Shaun  flashes and light circles around when he  finds a really dirty  spot, which was constantly  the first time  around our house.

The thing is, instead of  having Dave get  out the  vacuum, more all the furniture  around, pick  all the crap  up  off  the floor (that  is  now a constant--no crap  on the floor any more), and then put all the furniture back and put away the  vacuum, now, after breakfast,   I just pick  up  Shaun from his docking station, put  him  in our high traffic area,  turn him loose, pour myself a  cup  of  coffee  and come up here to tell you  about it while he  cleans  up  downstairs.

That was a long sentence.  That was longer  than the  effort it has  taken  us  to  do  this.

If you regularly vacuum, you probably don't need this.  If you are  slobs like  us  and can't  afford  a regular  housekeeper  and  your kids have  asthma  and the  house ought  to  be cleaner, this thing  is fan-freaking-tastic.

So yeah!  We're  not  getting any endorsement (HA!)  for  writing this review.  I  love  it. And  I'm using it  twice a day  in different parts  of the house.   Yes.  I  have gone from never  vacuuming to  a mean, hard driving taskmaster for  our robot!!  :-)   I  love it!

Crazy Fall and Update on Twins

It has been an extremely stressful fall.  Dave's father passed.  A very good friend  of mine's  father unexpectedly passed way too young.  A good  friend was diagnosed with breast cancer.   Another  good friend's  marriage hit  a very rocky spot.  Another good  friend's  daughter is  dealing with a serious health  crisis.  My  mom's  blood  pressure  is  jumping  all over the  place.   Add in  a couple  of  dead gerbils, murdered  by the  family  cat, and it's  been a bit  rough around here this fall.

And  then we have  the twins.

The  twins  are fine.  Christopher has  had a bit  of  an  on-going  cough, but  they are  both  quite healthy and doing well.

Still, Kindergarten has been a bit more of a difficult transition than we  thought and  we  have decided  to  hold  them back next year.   Yes, I  realize that  it's early  to pull the trigger on that decision.   But what we see  is  not just  whether they are mastering what they  are supposed in Kindergarten, but  1) they  are  young  for kindergarten,  2)  we would  have held  them  back if  we'd had  the money to pay  for  Transition-to-Kindergarten, 3)  we  held  Conor back  (same due date as  twins) and it was the best decision we've ever made, 4) despite Dave and I  being as old as dirt, we are  a  young (i.e., not wanting to  grow  up  quickly) family, and 5) they *are*  having  to  work  a bit hard(er)  to  master basic kindergarten objectives like writing their letters and learning the alphabet.

Dave and I  see this  as an opportunity to give the  kids one more year of  youth and also the  best opportunity for  them to do  as well as they  can in school.  Academically, we know the kids are above average.  Developmentally, though, they are  young for  Kindergarten.  They are June birthdays,  but were 6 weeks  preemie  and have had serious health issues. Why  *not* let them have another year  to  really  build their foundational skills and mature before the real work starts? Why not  give them every  opportunity  in the  world?

It's ironic, isn't it?  We see our  decision as being  very ambitious for  them.  It's  not  what  most families  would  choose as "ambitious" but it seems to us like  the best opportunity for  them.

We have  the support  of  their  wonderful teacher, the school counselor, and the zillions of  our successful friends  who were held back  by their  parents when they were in  school.  We're  "announcing" it to help normalize it  to other  families. As a  college prof, I  have had  lot of students struggle  to get their degree  as quickly as  they  can so they  can get  out  and  start working.  I point out  that going slower will likely help  them get  more out  of  their  degree and that, really, what  is the difference of  working 49 compared to  50  more  years  before they  retire.   (That  one always gets them)

So  there  you go.  We're  positioning  this to the kids that they are going to be  "Teacher's  Helpers" next year.  We thought we'd throw it  out  to  the  Internets so folks  aren't  surprised when  the transition to  Kindergarten starts up  again next fall.

Enterovirus D68

So, I'm probably one of the few people in the country more  concerned about  EV-D68 than Ebola.   And I'm probably one of  the few people in the country stalking the CDC website daily for more information about positive identification of this virus.

I'm also probably one of  the more cranky followers of  this virus in North Carolina.

It is of no surprise to anyone why:  the Squirrel. And it actually moves me when my real life friends ask me  about  how she is doing and let me know if they (or  a loved one) feels sick and what the  symptoms are and are not.

I was even in the local  paper, in which I thought the point was  to rant that we're not  getting information from the NC Department of  Health And Human Services about the LOCATION of verified EV-D68 cases and the patronizing tone of the NC epidemiologist that we should just assume  it's EV-D68 is out there and kids are getting it.

Assume?  I  should "assume"??? I'm sorry. I'm a scientist. I don't assume diddly squat.  I want data.  And if the data are that all  NC's EV D68 cases are around Raleigh, why should I assume Mecklenburg County has them, too?

Especially since the DATA from our pediatrician is that all the respiratory illnesses she's seen this year have been very  mild.

Especially since our school nurse says that most of the school absences are from stomach problems.

Especially since I've seen friends on FB--from Los Angeles--who've had to take their children into urgent care for breathing problems. Like  the Mom of that child and the Dad of another (who has been traveling all over  the country)  have ended up  with horrible, HORRIBLE colds with real respiratory and breathing issues.

Especially since EV-D68 lasts till late fall in *New Jersey* because only until then does it get cold enough to kill the virus!!  FYI, Fall Temp NC > Fall Temp NJ.  

It  is clear from the CDC chart that NC does not have a lot of EV-D68 compared to other states.

And the daily increase  of  cases has  drastically  declined.  At one point, there were between 50 and 75 new cases a day. Now there are about 20  new cases.

So here is  my latest thinking on EV-D68 and Charlotte.

1)  We might have escaped  it.  I am not seeing anyone  on my FB  newsfeed whose child has had a really, really bad  cold or who as  an  adult they have had a bad  respiratory  cold.
2)   We might have  already had it!!   EV-D68 has been around for  a while.   Bridget was hospitalized  *last* summer for  a horrible  respiratory  cold  that  took down  the entire family which  a  junky  cough. (I'm thinking of  her  second  hospitalization where we all coughed up  a lung or  two  in the house) No one tested anybody last summer for  EV-D68.   Maybe  Charlotte has already  had  this  bug and the city is  now basically immune.   (I'm hoping for this option)
3)   It  hasn't hit Charlotte yet.   Boooooo. Let's  hope  that one isn't  correct.

I  still don't understand why  the NC DHHS won't tell us where the  verified cases have been. The HOSPITALS are  revealing  that  they've treated  kids with EV-D68. The  reason NC DHHS won't is for HIPAA--they don't want  to reveal patient information. W.T.Fudge.Monkeys?

How many children are in Forsyth County?  If I tell you 1 child tested  positive  for  EV-D68, do  you know  which child  it  was???   NC  DHHS  reports  Lyme  disease  and cancer rates BY COUNTY.   But they can't tell us which county contains an illness  that is spread  through  the air and is  very serious  for  children with asthma?

I do think (hope) we're on the back end of this illness. But I'm not fully convinced.  Also, I  just  don't think this disease is as contagious as  they are saying. They say  the virus can live for days on surfaces. But when only 1 or 2 children in all of New York City get the diagnosis, how contagious can it  actually  be.  (And  yes, my  understanding is that the diagnosis is only made for kids in  intensive care, not for kids who have just been hospitalized.  It's  a very  expensive  test) I don't  know why Colorado and St  Louis had  such bad breakouts, but  I  don't think it's  burning  through the rest of the  country.

At least not through Charlotte.

At  least not through our house.

Famous last words, eh?

Waiting for This For Five Years

I hate when  I  blog in  my head for days (weeks, months) about  a particular  topic, and then when I  go  to  write  about it, I  really  want to write about  something else.

OH, WELL.

So, the  twinnies started kindergarten last month.

I  have  to  be honest with you:  it's  been wonderful.  Even the meltdowns  at 7:30  when they are too  tired to be  up but don't want to go  to bed.   Having all 3  children at the same  school, on the same bus stop, and generally  on the same schedule....FOR FREE....is wonderful.

That's  the thing  that has been so surprising to me:  clearly, I've  been waiting for Five Years for them  to start  public  school.  I *know* you're  not supposed to  focus  on the future.   You're  supposed to live  in the now.   And it's  not like I've  been ignoring everything that happened from the time  we found out  it  was twins  until  they started Kindergarten.   But I have to  be  honest  with you:  the day we  found out  it  was twins was  also the day we  realized the Jetta wasn't going to cut  it and we'd  need a minivan.   And the day I  started working on our budget  and I  realized we  simply  Did Not Have The  Money for two kids in daycare and  a car  payment was the day I  started  dreaming  of Kindergarten.

So.   YAY!!   YIPPEE!!  Only  a few  more years to go  to  pay  off  that  daycare debt, but  YAY!! YIPPEE!!  Public  education!!!

So  that's  what  I've wanted  to write about for  the last month.

For  the last week, I've been wanting to write about  this:

Take  a look at that.   No. Seriously.  Take 12 minutes  to watch that  video and then come back.   

And then let's all look in the mirror and say, "OK!   That's  it folks!  This is  what  I  weigh.   And this is  what I'm going to  weigh."   And then  make sure your sons and daughters NEVER EVER diet.  

I'll be honest with you.  This  video  has  been revolutionary  to me.  I'm a firm believer in data.  When a  double-blind  study says that  except for  celiac disease, gluten  sensitivity  isn't likely  to exist, I  start  eating wheat  again.  When the data begins to repeatedly say that diet  soda is   related  to  glucose intolerance  and weight gain, I  don't  drink it anymore.  And when the data say diets and other forms  of  restricting food  don't work, I  seriously  think that  it's  time to just accept  my  post-twinnie  belly  for what it flabbily  is.  

It's  really  odd  that the people who know me best now do not have  any knowledge  of me as  the super fit, relatively thin, exercise  hound that  I  was.  It's  even weirder  to  finally acknowledge that time has  passed. I still plan on exercising and running regularly and  eating healthily.  But I *want* to stop  worrying about calories and how much I  weigh.  I  just want to be  healthy  and not  worry about it. 

So that's  what I'm going  to do.

Mommy Working

So we are keeping the twins home from daycare this summer and Conor is mostly out of camp. The reason for this is absolutely financial. The summer months are supposed to be professors' most productive work time (writing without teaching) even though we are not paid for this work.   Keeping the twins home this summer saves us about $4800 and I  don't know about you, but  for us, that is a boatload of tax free income.

So, I am still working. You can read more about that here.  I get up  at 5 am (most days) and work until the twins get up at 10 am (most days).  Yes, that is  late.  We  let  them stay up late so I can actually get some work done. Conor is quiet.  The twins?   Well, the twins are not.  I can work with Conor awake.  Not  so much the twinnies.

But when  the twinnies do get up?  I switch from Professor to Mom. I'm not used to being a SAHM and having all the kids at home.  When summer  started, I was freaking out over What. The. Heck we were going to do all day, every day, all summer. I even made a basket of activities so I could pull an activity out of the hat  and  do it if we ever got too bored.

That has not happened.  

We are having a blast.  We joined a local pool and  go there many days a  week.   We've hit the kid and adult museums.  We've gone to parks.  We've gone to different libraries.  We visited my parents.  We've taken walks and runs (!) around the neighborhood. We've played at home and we've played at others.  

This is the most fun summer I've ever had.  It's  also the most *productive* summer as far as research goes that I've ever had.   The one thing it is not?  It is NOT the cleanest my house has ever been.  You'd  THINK that with all this time at home, I'd be compelled  to  keep the house clean.  You'd think wrong.  

I think that I have a choice:  I can either work and keep a clean house or I can work  and have fun.  I  vote work and fun.  I have no idea how SAHMs do it.  

But this is the first of only a few summers when all three kids are home.  I love my new working schedule.  And I ABSOLUTELY love my new Mommy schedule.  I could still use a nap, but that's the plight of being a (working) mom.  

Mud Run

Dave and I decided that we are  much more likely to do a father/daughter or mother/son mud run than a  father/daughter or mother/son dance.  Not that there's anything wrong with a dance.  That's just the way we roll.  In the mud.

Conor and I did the Big Muddy Challenge at The Hunter Farm in Weddington, near Charlotte.  It was a 2 mile "run" with 12 muddy obstacles in it.  Conor and I trained--with the twins--by doing run/walk intervals around the 'hood while the twins biked beside or between us. Our training runs have been incredibly slow and I was a bit worried about whether Conor would be able to keep up or even make it during the race. Because, you know, I'm an experienced runner.  And marathoner.  And one-time triathlete.

10 years ago.

So, um, yeah.  Here is a picture of us coming out of the pond.

That is literally  the only time I  was  ahead of Conor.  And bless our hearts, I  know  this was a family  event but both Conor and I were running and passing everyone we could.  I think I even said at one point or another (or several), "we can pass 'em." I may be a used up old  hag, but I am still competitive.  And I can pass a 6 year old  struggling to run up the hill with a gleam in my eye.  

So yeah. I was surprised that after each obstacle and most flat spaces and every hill, I had to yell to Conor "Wait for me!  This is a family event!  Run with meeeeeeeee!!!!"  It felt very much like  running with Dave.  Except when I caught up to  Conor, he was having so much fun doing this, he would hug and kiss me.  Not that Dave doesn't do that on our  runs.... Yeah.  He's from the Midwest.  Not  so  much smooching during our runs together.  

So here is  *my* favorite picture of Conor and me running together:

You can see even there that is his stride is longer than mine.  He was Ready. To. Go.  And also, my mouth is open, so I'm talking/coaching/mentoring and probably saying Slow Down.  ;-)  Actually, I've already given Conor a couple of running tricks that he LURVES, his favorite of which is picking some tree, sign, or pole  in the distance that pulls him toward it.  That is honestly the best trick  in the book because then you aren't actually running; this object is pulling you towards it.  Also, no whining.  He learned that after his first run when he noticed a difference in how well he ran with his whine turned on or off.

And my favorite mentoring advice to him: we were near the end of a training run and he was all "I can't  do this!  I can't do it!!" and I laughed in  recognition of that self-talk.  And I laughed even harder when I said "But you ARE doing it. You are doing it RIGHT NOW. And you are almost done!!"  

Right?? Can't we all use that feedback?  We are all Doing It right now.  

He and I both laughed and  boy, was that a life lesson for *me*.  

So here we are at the end of the race.  

I love this picture.  We are both so excited. And you cannot tell what I am thinking which is actually which was "Holy crap, that was hard and I'm glad it's over and I had so much fun with Conor and my face has got to be  SO RED  that this picture is going to suck." I wonder where Conor gets his self-talk from? Hmmmm....

In any case, we  have a runner on our hands.  That is for dang sure.  

Mid-Life Crisis

I am turning 50 in August.

I say this like it's a big announcement because it  is. Since my 30s, I've been extremely  cagey  about my age because I have been told I look a lot younger than I am.  Lord knows, I act a lot younger.

So announcing my real age feels like a big deal.

Turning 40 really did not seem like that big of a deal, mainly because I had just gotten married and was pregnant with Conor.  It's hard to feel old when everything is new and shiny.  Plus I was still running marathons around that time.  Physically, in my late 30s, I was at my physical peak.

Screeching up to the 50 year mark?  Not so much.  I still run, but  only a bit. There is still evidence of MY AWARD WINNING TMZ PHOTO (!!!) and the twins in the extra skin around my belly.  My metabolism has taken a nose dive and I cannot get rid of these extra ellbees.

So I'm no longer physically at my peak.  But mentally and emotionally?  I am just getting started.  And I can tell you that I'm getting a few amens from the other women who are approaching or past 50 right now, too.

First, my attitude has shifted to this:

I sometimes just say that.  Out loud.  With a sweep of my arm to demonstrate both the field and that it is barren.

Second, I recently saw this:

This is a nice coda to the original "Behold the fields in which I grow....".  Plus, it's a lot quicker to just say "F@ck it!  Dance party!!!" and start dancing around.  

It doesn't mean that I've given up.  Instead, it's quite the opposite.  Now I  have a barren field on which I  regularly have a dance party.  It allows me to jump off the diving board in my large tankini at the pool and swim around like a shark attacking my children.  It  says  "Why not try some Latisse, Botox, and eyelash tinting" and by Jove, it looks good.  It says "Fasting is good. But this week, I'm  going to eat and drink some nice wine."    This dance party on that field says  "Get that second tattoo on your ankle so everyone can see it."  

I thought "Tattoo Still Life With Cat" would make a nice addition to all the Facebook pictures.  All I need now is a teacup pig, and my midlife crisis will be over.  Or at least full.  Crisis goals met?  What happens when the crisis is over?  What's the next stage?  Old hag?  READY FOR IT!!

Spring, Fasting, and Growing Up

I know I blah, blah, blahed about this  in the last blog, but Dave and I continue to be shocked at this thing called "Spring."  IT'S BEEN SO LONG.  The last Spring we actually had was two years ago, when the twins were turning 3 and it was the first time in, OH THREE YEARS, Dave and I had some semblance of a life.

It's just amazing:  we are planting things in the garden and landscape bed....and they are growing.  We have more (!) baby chicks and they are thriving.  Nights are not fraught with fears of going back to the hospital.  I wake up early most days and do some work.  I am even somewhat regularly exercising.

I am living and it feels like forever since that has happened!

I'm also still doing the intermittent fasting and living somewhat gluten free.  While my incredibly mainstream doctor was surprisingly supportive of my continuing a completely gluten free life, I've seen some research posted about whether gluten sensitivity is real that gives me pause.  Celiac disease is absolutely real.  Hashimoto's disease is real.  Many people have real gluten allergies.  And this is ONE STUDY out of many people's experiences that questions gluten sensitivity.  But it makes me wonder if it's the *processing* that's the problem with gluten products that is causing *my* symptoms.  I don't know.  I would really like to just eat non-processed, recognizable food and call it a day.

But holy cow.  Here is the crazy thing:  the twins are going to graduate from Pre-K is two weeks.  I don't know if I'm going to get emotional when they start Kindergarten, but I'm already weepy thinking about them leaving daycare.  And not because they are going to be home full-time or we're going to get so much more tax free money now.*

We've been working with many of the teachers at the twins' daycare for 8 to 10 years. These teachers have been some of the best sounding boards and parenting advice givers we've known.  They've worked with 100s of children and have been trained to work through gentle discipline, education, and character development.  They've been our coaches and our children's mentors for a long time.  I feel like we're leaving our extended family and starting the kids in "The System."  (Which for those of  you whose oldest children are still in daycare is COMPLETELY DIFFERENT)

Christopher--who will be going by the name Kit at school--is convinced he is going to be a Boy Artist.  I don't know why he has to modify artist with a gender, but there you have it.  He assures us that when we come visit him when he grows  up, he will draw us in whatever color we want.  Even the animals!

Bridget remains extremely opinionated, and while reading Sonia Sotomayor's autobiography, I was inspired for her.  Now Bridget asks "Mommy, what am I going to be when I grow up?  The one who decides what is right and wrong?" "A judge."  "Yes!  I'm going to be a judge *and* a bus driver when I  grow up!"

(((sigh)))

How did this happen?  How did we  all get so grown up?  

Spring, This Year and Last

A few weekends ago, I was working in the back  garden (as opposed to the side garden) digging and weeding and  making plans for what I was going to do.  And I realized, bluntly and clearly, that it had been a long time since I had been doing spring activities like that.

Last year, our family didn't get a Spring.  We had a really cold February and March (generally when Spring starts in Charlotte) and then there the weeks of pneumonia and Bridget's first hospitalization. Spring hit during her hospitalization.  I  missed all the azaleas and all the dogwoods because apparently we went from 0 to 50 in 8 days last year.  We recovered from the first hospitalization and then she had the second one two months later.

I'd like to go on record as saying the we didn't get a "March through June" last year.  We just didn't get to experience those months like everyone else.  I'd kind of like a refund.

Alas, it does make me appreciate THIS Spring so much more.  I'm still not up to 100% Urban Farming, but I have lots of plants out and at least modest plans for the rest of the vegetable garden and the flower beds.

And like every traumatic event, Dave and I have been acutely aware of the anniversaries.  When Bridget got her cold a few weeks ago, on the anniversary of her first hospitalization, we were not amused.  But she bounced back quickly and everything seemed great.

Then she woke up Monday barking, a sign that she's getting the Bad Cold of Laryngitis, the pulminologist hates so much.  It gives adults laryngitis, but it's a particularly bad virus for squirrel who favors atelectasis to get.  It appears to be getting progressively worse.  It's not BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD! But it's not good, either.

We're going back to the doctor tomorrow to decide on steroids or not.  Even if she starts to poop out and her O2 tanks overnight, I think we can still make it until tomorrow's doc visit.

Honestly, when I was out there in the garden thinking about how wonderful this Spring is and how suck-ash the last one was, I fully expected this blog entry to be all unicorns and rainbows.  It still is, I guess, just not in the  way I was expecting.

Gluten Free, Fasting, Lent, and Beyond

So, some folks have asked how the whole "Gluten Free" for Lent is going.  Before I share that, I have some confessions to make.

First, I thought Gluten Free would help me lose weight.  And Lent is a good time (for me) to choose to sacrifice something that is supposed to make me healthier.  Last year, it was Facebook and I ended up believing there is nothing wrong with Facebook, so using it is healthy for me.  This year, I started by thinking this I could lose a few ellbees, see if it has any effect on me, and, really, to see what life is like for many of my gluten free friends.  In all honesty, except for those with celiac disease, I was not convinced that gluten free was all that healthy.  It seemed like a fad to me.  Wheat has been around for 6000 years, longer even than the beer and yogurt Dave and I are now making from scratch.

So the results, as we fast approach Easter.  No weight loss from gluten free.  But Holy Frijole, the other changes!!  Now remember, I'm going into this as a skeptic!  And while I do feel less tired, I'm not really sure I can attribute that to gluten free.  But my digestive system.  WOW!  N=1 design which provides a strong causal claim:  have a baseline, remove something, add it back, remove it again.  If you see consistent changes, you can make a decent causal claim that what you removed made the difference.

I've had over 40 some years of eating gluten, even though, in all honesty, I've really never eaten a lot of bread for health and caloric reasons (bread is not the bearer of great nutrients).  But once I stopped eating all the hidden sources of gluten, WOW.  I've been thinking of how to say this politely, so let's go with this:  without gluten, there are fewer rumblies in my tumbly. Which is akin to saying "the sun decided to sleep in this morning."  There is more, but let's just leave it at that and say that while I don't have celiac, I am now convinced I have gluten sensitivities.  In fact, one day when things went back to normal, I tried to figure out what I ate to cause this. That's when I realized that deli meats have lots of gluten and I'd eaten quite a bit of them the day before.  No more gluten, no more problems of that nature.

So am I going back to gluten after Lent?  I don't know.  I don't think I'm going to purposefully eat gluten willy nilly.  And Dave is BUMMED that he just started brewing delicious, yummy home brew and now I'm not going to drink it.  (Actually, more for him!)  But he'd like to try gluten free and see how it works for him.
But if I go to someone's house for dinner and they serve pasta, I will eat it.  I'd rather not, but I do not have an allergy, just a sensitivity (at most).  It's just amazing that I can see such a huge difference for something I didn't expect to have an effect.

So here's the other thing that has shocked the crap out of me.  (Except, not)  I've started this new fad diet called the 5:2.  I hate fad diets.  They are stupid and they don't last.  The cabbage soup diet, the bananas/hot dogs/some other food diet?  Bullshit.  So, this thing I'm doing now is also a fad diet.  Except 1)  I think this could very well be a lifestyle for me  and 2) I am FINALLY losing weight.  FINALLY!  After counting calories and getting nowhere since Christmas, I've been doing the 5:2 fast for the last 3 weeks, and I've lost 5 pounds.

The crazier part?  I'm *NOT* dieting and I'm *NOT* counting calories.  Every morning when I wake up and find out I've lost another ellbee, I spend 2 hours talking to Dave trying to figure out how I did it.  I still don't know how I'm doing it.  It doesn't make any sense to me based on 20 years of watching my calories.

So what is this magic elixir of weight loss?  It's called the 5:2 Fast Diet.  But "Fast" doesn't mean quickly.  Fast means you don't eat.  So 5 days a week, I eat everything I want.  And I mean everything:  potato chips, french fries, wine, whatever.  And on 2 nonconsecutive days a week, I eat 500 calories (200 for breakfast and 300 for dinner).  And I lose weight.

What. The. Truck.  Yes, I get hungry on the fasting days.  But I end up drinking a ton of herbal teas.  I also look at the food I really, really want and I say "I am going to eat the hell out of you tomorrow."  And after the first fasting day, I probably did eat quite a bit more.  But now, I just eat on my non-fasting days.  I'm supposed to eat 2100 calories on my non-fasting days which is so much food, I don't even keep track of what I eat.

Both the gluten free and the fasting have made me very aware of how frequently I snack on unhealthy tidbits off the children's plate or from the cupboard while I'm preparing dinner.  There's nothing quite like cooking while you're really hungry and NOT eating to teach you that you can do it.  Also, dinner on fasting days is some of the best food I've ever eaten.

So maybe I'm not eating as much as I used to on my non-fasting days?  I don't think so.  I'm eating everything I want although I do have in the back of  my mind that I don't want to blow all the hard work from my fasting day.  But I still eat.  Everything I want. So I don't know if that's it.  Maybe the fasting days quick change my metabolism?  I do know that there's some evidence for the health of fasting, but I don't know if intermittent fasting as this is called does the same thing. And when I've lost the weight I want, I apparently only fast one day a week for maintenance. (I can already tell that's going to be on Mondays after a weekend of indulgence)

All I know is that this is the craziest thing I've ever done and lost weight.  I honestly and truly do not know how this is happening, because I am NOT dieting.  And I know from my calorie counts that fasting on 500 calories a day two times a week and eating 2100 calories the rest should not be enough for me to lose 1 lb a week much less 2, but that is what is happening.  That is CRAZINESS!!

I'd love to hear if anyone else is doing this 5:2 thing and how they are responding to it.  I'd love to hear if other folks start it how it works for them.  (I'm fasting Monday and Thursday)  I bought the book and just started.

Truly, two shocking food changes for me this Lent.  It's throwing everything I thought I knew about eating up in the air.  And fortunately, not landing back on my butt.

It's fine. Really, it's fine.

I forgot to mention that BOTH kids were sick last year during this week.  More on that in a sec.

We called up Bridget's amazing pulmonologist yesterday to let him know that we put Bridget on steroids.  We wanted some approval from an authority that this seemed like a reasonable thing to do.  We told his nurse we didn't need to see him, we just wanted to keep him informed.  His nurse called us back in a few and said he wanted to see B.  I figured this was one of those BS calls where they don't want the liability of giving advice out without seeing anyone. Blahty blah.

However, the second he walked in to our waiting room, our doc said "I really wanted to see Bridget at the beginning of an illness. I only see her at the end and I want to see how she is at the beginning."  Wow.  We weren't there for liability.  We were there because he wanted to know more about our little squirrel and get better up to speed on her.  WOWZA.  Full on less than 3 for our doc.

Even better when he exclaimed "Oh, she sounds GREAT!" when he listened to her. Even better-est was the diagnosis of the persistent rash on her face as irritation from her treatment mask and a change in equipment as a solution.

So here's the scoop:  The pollen is so bad that people who do not have allergies (perhaps you?!) are walking around with water eyes, blowing their noses, and feeling pooped.  It's like working in a room full of sawdust.  The next day, you are sneezing and coughing out crap as your sinuses and lungs do their thing.  People who are already a but compromised have a bit more of a problem, like Squirrel.  But she's fine. Steroids for one more day (today) and then we're done.

Of course, last year, it started with Christopher and then Bridget stole the show.  At 5 am this morning, Christopher decided it was his turn and he had the worst asthma attack he's ever had.  I honestly thought we were going to have to get him to the hospital because puff after puff of albuterol could not calm his attack down.

If it rains, it pours, right?  Actually, our city could use some rain right now.  A big downpour to clean out all this pollen.  Blergh.  But really!?  Good news absolutely and overall.

Fudge Monkeys

I have had a potty mouth.  Certainly, in Conor's early years that didn't change.  He did not mimic my bad words.  The twins, however, are more open to saying everything.  So I've had to develop different ways of saying things.  And poopyhead, while quite naughty for children, has become part of what I say.  Truly better than the alternatives.

But "Fudge Monkeys" came at me from out of the blue and it's my favorite phrase when really bad things happen. What I love about it this faux curse is that it just pops out when I'm upset.  I have to think about "Cheese and rice" or "Shut the front door!"  This one is natural for me.  I have turned Fudge Monkeys into a very naughty phrase. And yes, the idea of Fudge Monkeys flying at me from out of the blue is wonderful.  Very Wicked Witch of the South.

And it's an appropriate one considering yesterday's "Oh, Poop."

So, um, yeah!  Bridget's got the same thing she had last year.  It's a horrible cough with oxygen numbers trending down.  We had some 89 to 91 readings last night, but got up and did a saline treatment and got them back up to 93.  We gave her a double dose of steroids this morning (and sent her to daycare!! GOOD LUCK WITH THE MONSTER FORMERLY KNOWN AS BRIDGET).  She needs to be active to get her lungs active and I need to work and the TV does not provide as much activity as playing in the classroom.  The teachers are all on board and know everything and have their own pulse ox.  I fully expect her to come home after lunch.

Our goal is to stay ahead of this downward spiral and keep her out of the hospital.  I don't think it's going to work. This is a shit ass cough.  (You're adults, right?  I still say that cuss word phrase.  And it's one of my milder ones)  This cough is worse than the one that sent her to the hospital over New Year's.  I think whatever molds have released their spores in this warm weather have exploded their reactions in her lungs.

That said, if I'm just playing the role of Debbie Doom and the steroids DO keep her out of the hospital....WOOHOOOHOOHOOO!!!  We have found the golden ticket.  Wouldn't that be exciting!?

I'm waiting for a down moment so I can blog about being gluten free and how much I am noticing about it.  AMAZE-BALLS.  Apparently, I have a gluten sensitivity.  Wow.