Elijah caught his breath and his eyes froze in fear as I carried him out into the below-zero wind chills yesterday morning. I ran him to the warm van, where he relaxed enough to breathe again and let out his scream of protest. Of course I would have to spend the entire day running around town on the coldest day of the year. After last years' mild winter and the warm beginning to this winter, I think even my older kids had forgotten what real cold was. Even dressed in long-johns and sweaters, they shivered in the van.
At our home-school art class we shivered again as the church struggled to warm up. Elijah carried his apple with him, and munched happily as he toddled around inspecting drawers and cupboards and locked doors. Naomi, Hannah, Emma, and Toby painted watercolor snow-scenes with the nine other children in their class.
And then we added chaos to cold. Elijah realized he was up past nap time and decided to spend the next hour staging an arm-flailing, food-flinging, red-faced protest while I attempted to help the other kids finish up their collages. He flung his apple off the side of the high-chair where he'd been banished after I declared him beyond redemption. The apple narrowly missed the head of a baby girl who was crawling nearby. She happily accepted the Rice Chex shower that followed, but Elijah wasn't out to make anybody happy.
"Mommy!" Toby whined, "I can't cut this! You cut it!"
"Would you please cut this?" I corrected him, picking up his scissors.
"Mommy! Look at my picture!" Hannah called out above the commotion.
"Oh, that's beautiful, honey," I called back, with one eye on Elijah, one eye on the scissors I was snipping with, and my other eye on her picture.
"Mrs. Eby?" queried Naomi's shark-obsessed friend, "could you help me cut out these purple polka-dots for my (and here he inserted the name of a prehistoric shark species that probably only thirty human beings have ever heard of, which was recreated from a jaw bone discovered high on a mountain somewhere). Since we don't know what (prehistoric jaw-bone shark name here) really looked like I'm going to make mine with purple polka dots, but I can't cut them out. Could you cut them out for me?" He handed me a paper with pea-sized circles drawn all over it before I could refuse.
"Sure, I'd be glad to help you," I smiled back.
I quickly snipped out the polka-dots, admired Emma's collage, served up some sandwiches and clementines, and then rushed my kids back out into the arctic. Elijah got a cat-nap on the way to my friend's house, but woke to scream again when I dropped him in her arms, along with Naomi and Hannah, before I ran back to my car.
"Where are we going, Mommy?" Toby asked for the thirteenth time.
"We're going to the hospital so you and Emma can have ultrasounds and a blood draw," I answered for the thirteenth time.
The last nine years of sleep deprivation seemed to catch up with me as we entered the warm, dark ultrasound exam room. I sat yawning and struggling to stay awake as the technician in training and her mentor looked for Toby's kidneys. "The right kidney is laying sideways under his belly button, stuck to the bottom of the left," I advised them, to speed things up a little. "We want to make sure that as he grows the ureters don't get kinked, and we're also checking to be sure there are still no signs of cystic kidney disease, because two of his sisters have polycystic kidney disease."
The bean-shaped kidney came into view, right where I had suggested it would be. I was happy to see as she measured it, that it had grown a couple centimeters in the last two years. When he was a baby I had been told that the right kidney would probably just shrivel up and disappear, but there it was: healthy and growing, even if weirdly out of place.
Time passed even more slowly as we waited...and waited for the technicians to get the pictures approved by the radiologist. "I'm so sorry that took so long," one apologized as they reentered the room. "The radiologist is all into teaching us, so he was telling us all about polycystic kidney disease as he looked at the pictures. And I was like 'Yeah, yeah, his sister has that too.'"
I laughed with them and helped Emma hop up onto the bed for her scan. Oh those radiologists, acting like their technicians had all the time in the world to learn about rare diseases...wait a minute. Why would he be teaching them about polycystic kidney disease while looking at Toby's pictures, and before the technicians informed him that Emma and Naomi had cystic kidneys? Suddenly my heart was in my throat, and all I could think was, "I must have heard that wrong. I'm sure I did. Maybe the radiologist had looked up our kids' histories beforehand and seen that it was in the family. Maybe he was teaching the technicians why Toby's kidneys weren't cystic. Please let that be it."
I tried to focus on Emma's scan, to watch the fuzzy, black and white beans on the screen. Her left kidney was bigger than her right, the same as Naomi's...the same as Toby's. It was going to be a long two or three days now, waiting for the radiologist's report.
Toby and Emma were both very brave for their blood draws, and were richly rewarded, heading back to the van decorated with stickers. I wondered what state I would find Elijah in as I drove to pick up the kids, but Elijah was wandering around calmly when I arrived. He let out a little relieved cry and ran to me when he saw me.
Once we arrived home I had exactly 35 minutes to pull dinner from the crock-pot, serve five kids, put Hannah's hair up in a bun, change Elijah, and rush everybody back out the door in time for Hannah's ballet class. We arrived at the dance studio to find it mostly deserted, with two other families sitting in their cars, looking as bewildered as we were. After waiting in the van a few minutes, the man in the car beside me informed me that he'd called the dance office and they told him classes were cancelled because the schools had cancelled for the cold.
This made my feat of serving dinner in record time seem less heroic and more futile. Hannah was deflated as well. But at least I wouldn't have to try to keep a very over-tired Elijah happy in a waiting room for 30 minutes. Just one more stop before home.
I surprised my mother-in-law by arriving ahead of schedule. Then the older kids ran wild in the basement with their cousins for an hour while my sister-in-law and I sorted through some clothes that had been passed down to us from a neighbor family, but Elijah was done. Done with running around town, done with people outside his nuclear family, done with being appeased by apples, just...done. He wailed in his high chair, arching his back, and flinging his Rice Chex to the floor again. I couldn't get my kids and my bags packed up fast enough.
After a stop by the Goodwill drop-off to rid myself of the leftover hand-me-down clothes, and a stop by the pharmacy drive through to pick up some medicated lotion for Elijah's eczema, we finally arrived home at 7:30pm. I had just tucked Elijah into his crib when Matt came home from work at 7:45. Coats, shoes, and bags were strewn across the floor. Dinner dishes still sat on the table. The laundry hamper overflowed in my office. I thought to myself that it was going to take an entire day at home just to recover from this one.
And now it's time to start recovery day. At least Elijah slept well last night.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Seven Appointments with Five Kids in Nine Days
After spending nine days at my parents' house over New Year's, the last nine days have been a rough reintroduction to the world of homeschooling, housekeeping, cooking, and dragging children to doctors appointments. We arrived home at 1:00am last Wednesday morning. Thursday morning I was already packing my kids into the van to drive to see one of Naomi's doctors about her newly developing thyroid condition. Saturday morning I dropped my younger four kids at Matt's parents' house while I took Naomi to the dentist for her first cavity filling. It turns out this little half-day expedition was in vain, since the dentist had failed to inform me that they would need medical release forms filled out by Naomi's liver and kidney doctors before they would give her any anesthetic. How thoughtful of them.
Sunday morning was the usual rush-everyone-out-the-door-in-time-to-arrive-ten-minutes-late-to-church routine. Monday I was blessed with the double joy of taking all five of my children to Emma's yearly eye exam, where the ophthalmologist seems to regard the extra four children in the tiny room (no matter how well behaved they are) with about as much welcome as four extra pygmy goats. Here, when I expressed for the third year in a row my concerns about Emma's peripheral vision, because, oh I don't know, continually running into door frames and other objects on the periphery of her vision doesn't seem normal to me, and the ophthalmologist assured me for the third year in a row that all the insides of Emma's eyes looked healthy, I was offered the overwhelmingly insightful and helpful response, "Maybe that's just her personality." Ah, yes. Of course. I see so clearly now. My five year old daughter enjoys running into door frames. Thank you doctor. Emma, the goats, and I look forward to our return next January where I hope to learn more intriguing insights into my children's personalities from you.
After this appointment we rushed home, crammed down some sandwiches, and rushed back out for Naomi's orthopedic doctor appointment so that he could check the inserts in her shoes and say, "Yep, they look fine. Keep doing those stretches and wearing your shoes, honey." I was eager to collapse at home after this appointment, but no--before we could leave the exam room Toby began to whine that he couldn't find his little blue car, and we were granted an extra ten minutes in the room looking under and behind every object that could possibly conceal a hot wheels car. Only after the nurse donned gloves and dug through the trash can for us did I remember that I had confiscated the car from Toby in the waiting room and had put it in my pocket. I did apologize, but I think what they really wanted was for us to exit the building. Quickly. Fortunately, this was in line with my own greatest wish at the time.
Tuesday we attended our home school art class in the morning, and ballet class in the evening. Wednesday morning Naomi had her annual eye exam. Today, to top off my week of clinic hopping, I got to drive five small children 90 minutes each way to our annual kidney doctor check ups. I am happy to report that Naomi, Emma, and Toby all seem to be doing well with their different varieties of kidney maladies. Sometime in the next couple weeks I'll need to take Emma and Toby for blood work and ultrasounds since it's been two entire years since we've checked those things on them, but I expect that their conditions are stable.
After spending the last 10 days thinking about virtually nothing but my children's health, I have done some more thinking and research and am considering applying to the National Institutes of Health's Undiagnosed Disease Clinic. I am hoping that they can help me track down the illusive genetic mutation that is at the bottom of all (or at least some) of my kids' health issues including: cystic kidneys, liver fibrosis, crossed-eyes, club feet, heart valve problems, autoimmune diseases, asthma, allergies, chronic ear infections, speech apraxia, near-sightedness, motor-skill delays, and autistic tendencies. We've had some genes tested, but haven't yet found a mutation. There are a few more genes I've come across in my research that could explain a lot for my children, and if we could nail down the mutation I might have some idea of how to help my kids, or at least what to expect in the future. Applying to the program is an extensive process, but if accepted my family would be flown to Maryland and given all the necessary diagnostic testing for free, in the interest of contributing to the Human Genome Project. I really want to do this...but I might need to take a few days to recover first.
Sunday morning was the usual rush-everyone-out-the-door-in-time-to-arrive-ten-minutes-late-to-church routine. Monday I was blessed with the double joy of taking all five of my children to Emma's yearly eye exam, where the ophthalmologist seems to regard the extra four children in the tiny room (no matter how well behaved they are) with about as much welcome as four extra pygmy goats. Here, when I expressed for the third year in a row my concerns about Emma's peripheral vision, because, oh I don't know, continually running into door frames and other objects on the periphery of her vision doesn't seem normal to me, and the ophthalmologist assured me for the third year in a row that all the insides of Emma's eyes looked healthy, I was offered the overwhelmingly insightful and helpful response, "Maybe that's just her personality." Ah, yes. Of course. I see so clearly now. My five year old daughter enjoys running into door frames. Thank you doctor. Emma, the goats, and I look forward to our return next January where I hope to learn more intriguing insights into my children's personalities from you.
After this appointment we rushed home, crammed down some sandwiches, and rushed back out for Naomi's orthopedic doctor appointment so that he could check the inserts in her shoes and say, "Yep, they look fine. Keep doing those stretches and wearing your shoes, honey." I was eager to collapse at home after this appointment, but no--before we could leave the exam room Toby began to whine that he couldn't find his little blue car, and we were granted an extra ten minutes in the room looking under and behind every object that could possibly conceal a hot wheels car. Only after the nurse donned gloves and dug through the trash can for us did I remember that I had confiscated the car from Toby in the waiting room and had put it in my pocket. I did apologize, but I think what they really wanted was for us to exit the building. Quickly. Fortunately, this was in line with my own greatest wish at the time.
Tuesday we attended our home school art class in the morning, and ballet class in the evening. Wednesday morning Naomi had her annual eye exam. Today, to top off my week of clinic hopping, I got to drive five small children 90 minutes each way to our annual kidney doctor check ups. I am happy to report that Naomi, Emma, and Toby all seem to be doing well with their different varieties of kidney maladies. Sometime in the next couple weeks I'll need to take Emma and Toby for blood work and ultrasounds since it's been two entire years since we've checked those things on them, but I expect that their conditions are stable.
After spending the last 10 days thinking about virtually nothing but my children's health, I have done some more thinking and research and am considering applying to the National Institutes of Health's Undiagnosed Disease Clinic. I am hoping that they can help me track down the illusive genetic mutation that is at the bottom of all (or at least some) of my kids' health issues including: cystic kidneys, liver fibrosis, crossed-eyes, club feet, heart valve problems, autoimmune diseases, asthma, allergies, chronic ear infections, speech apraxia, near-sightedness, motor-skill delays, and autistic tendencies. We've had some genes tested, but haven't yet found a mutation. There are a few more genes I've come across in my research that could explain a lot for my children, and if we could nail down the mutation I might have some idea of how to help my kids, or at least what to expect in the future. Applying to the program is an extensive process, but if accepted my family would be flown to Maryland and given all the necessary diagnostic testing for free, in the interest of contributing to the Human Genome Project. I really want to do this...but I might need to take a few days to recover first.
Elijah's To-Do List 1/16/13
- Wake Mommy promptly at 7:00am. We've got a lot to do today.
- Drop Kix from highchair to floor. Demand apple for breakfast instead--the whole apple, no wimpy slices.
- Eat half of apple. Demand to be set free from high chair prison.
- Demand the privilege of carrying apple with you wherever you go.
- Drop apple like a hot potato when you spy the orange peels in the garbage.
- Pull orange peels from garbage and walk around house happily munching them and smacking lips. Leave dribbles and snippets of orange peel behind you, Hansel fashion.
- Reclaim apple from under kitchen table. Enjoy a few bites. Drop apple in garbage. Reconsider.
- Reclaim apple and enjoy it all the way to the core. Deposit core under kitchen table.
- Stand at baby gate, bang it back and forth, and demand to be allowed access to the great upstairs.
- Engage in a giggle party while playing "Two Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed" with Toby.
- Investigate diaper pail. Reconsider.
- Play for 1.6 seconds with an age-appropriate toy. Reconsider.
- Stand at baby gate, bang it back and forth, and demand to be allowed access to the more desirable downstairs.
- Pull onion netting from garbage and gleefully fling it around and around to evenly distribute thin, crispy onion-peel shavings across the floor of Mommy's office.
- Confiscate broom from Mommy and demand to clean up your own mess, thank you very much.
- Leave office with onion netting hooked to bottom of sock to distribute some more peelings.
- Spy bathroom door that has been left open. Bingo.
- Quickly investigate plunger, toilet bowl brush, and shampoo bottles before being ratted out by siblings.
- Chew on hairbrush and protest the injustice loudly while being evicted.
- Open drawer containing winter clothing. Chew on hand-knitted mittens. Reconsider.
- Throw entire contents of winter clothing drawer on floor instead.
- Succumb to nap when Mommy turns on the ocean waves sound and hands you a fleecy blanket.
- Eat heartily at lunch to keep up your strength.
- Watch Mommy chop apples for crock-pot pork roast dinner. Beg for whole apple (slices will not do).
- Carry prize apple around and around house taking bites and jabboring happily.
- Rub apple back and forth across the carpet, just for kicks.
- Abandon apple when Kleenex box comes in sight.
- Pull Kleenex from box, shred to pieces. Offer some to Mommy. Wipe nose on sleeve.
- Look for Apple. Take bite from raw sweet potato instead. Resume search for apple.
- Scream in horror when Mommy washes apple.
- Fall for the old ocean-waves-sound-and-fleece-blanket-trick again. Drat.
- Wake quietly and secretly pull half of the contents of the dirty laundry hamper through the bars of your crib. Knock the lid off of the diaper pail. Wail pitifully when Mommy finds you surrounded by dirty socks and underwear in a room that smells like three-day old diapers.
- Request an apple for an after-nap snack. Scream and fling banana to floor because you haven't quite learned the words for, "I said 'apple' you imbecile!"
- Announce with authority, "Da, da, da, da, DAAAA!" when Daddy comes home from work.
- Cling to Daddy's leg and refuse to let him take his shoes off or change out of his scrubs before he tickles you and holds you up to touch the ceiling.
- Trample on the "Toy Story 3 Yahtzee" game board that all four of your siblings were attempting play with Daddy, because you haven't yet learned how to yell, "MY Daddy!"
- Sneak up the stairs when you see that the gate has been left open. Stand innocently in the kids' room and explain, "Ma wanee gablay yagunoh ya," when mommy asks what you are doing up there.
- Fall happily to sleep at 8:30pm after an exhausting day.
- Wake happily at 1:34 am, entirely refreshed and ready to begin the next one.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Week (or More) at Grandma's
Last Sunday we packed up the five kids and every free square inch around them in our minivan and drove over seven hours to my parents' house for a week of Christmas vacation. Elijah spent the first four days running a fever over 103 and clinging to my hip like a barnacle. Toby coughed and whined and stared blankly much of the trip. I didn't get terribly ill, but I did lose my voice completely for 24 hours, which made it difficult to converse with my family, discipline my children, or even be polite to the lady at the shoe store who probably wondered why I was refused to speak to her.
On Thursday night things hit an all-time low when I was suddenly afflicted with a horrific migraine headache (only the third of my lifetime) and was confined to laying still in a dark room while listening to my mom, my dad, and my husband trying to get dinner for the kids--no small task with all of our dietary restrictions. My mom said something like, "Here, Doug, you're a chemist. These are potato buds. Pretend you're in a lab and cook these according to directions." I mustered my strength to try to croak with my inflamed vocal cords, "You'll have to substitute rice milk for the milk, oh...and canola oil for the butter!"
By Friday we were all on the mend (except for my poor mother who picked up our sore throat), Elijah was becoming more accustomed to Grandma and Grandpa's house, and we were beginning to enjoy our time together more. We spent an evening at my sister's house where the kids played hide and seek and ran cars down a track together. Naomi found a cozy spot in her cousin's bedroom to read five of his chapter books. He later remarked to my sister, "I've never seen anyone read as fast as Naomi! She didn't read one book last night, she read five!"
Saturday we had a little birthday party for my sister (with an 11th anniversary celebration for Matt and I on the side). It wasn't a half-bad visit, all in all, but by today I think we were all ready for my family to head home again. We finished the laundry this morning, gathered all the markers and hot wheels cars from under the furniture, and piled everything back in the van. Somehow it all fit, and we were on the road by 2:30pm, which isn't too bad for our family. Matt put a theological lecture on the audio system and we settled if for the long drive.
Twenty miles from town, on a hilly rural highway, before we'd even reached the interstate, our van began to sputter, then slowed to a stop in the driveway of a farmer at the top of a hill. Three children and a farmer, all in snowsuits, looked at us...and we looked back. Crap. And now what?
After our brains resumed functioning we called my parents, who drove out in two cars to pick us all up. And we called AAA, who has lost about a thousand dollars on us in the last year, to come and tow our van, once again. And Matt began calling co-workers to see who could possibly cover his shift tomorrow. And I asked the kids, "Alright. Who prayed for us to spend more time at Grandma's?" Hannah's little face lit up. "I did!!" she happily admitted. I then passed out some peanut butter cookies to keep up moral while we awaited rescue.
We unloaded our van and packed all our things into the trunks of my parents' cars. Then we drove back to town and unloaded all or our things back into their house, where Toby promptly had a diarrhea explosion all over his pants. We're getting settled in again now, and we are thankful: thankful the car didn't break down three hours into our trip, thankful that we're all safe and warm, thankful that AAA doesn't have any rules against people like us being members of their awesome club, and thankful that Toby's explosion didn't happen in a car seat. Tonight we'll eat leftovers and play cards, and I pray the van will be fixed tomorrow, because as lovely as this little vacation has been, I'm starting to get anxious to be back in our normal boring routine.
On Thursday night things hit an all-time low when I was suddenly afflicted with a horrific migraine headache (only the third of my lifetime) and was confined to laying still in a dark room while listening to my mom, my dad, and my husband trying to get dinner for the kids--no small task with all of our dietary restrictions. My mom said something like, "Here, Doug, you're a chemist. These are potato buds. Pretend you're in a lab and cook these according to directions." I mustered my strength to try to croak with my inflamed vocal cords, "You'll have to substitute rice milk for the milk, oh...and canola oil for the butter!"
By Friday we were all on the mend (except for my poor mother who picked up our sore throat), Elijah was becoming more accustomed to Grandma and Grandpa's house, and we were beginning to enjoy our time together more. We spent an evening at my sister's house where the kids played hide and seek and ran cars down a track together. Naomi found a cozy spot in her cousin's bedroom to read five of his chapter books. He later remarked to my sister, "I've never seen anyone read as fast as Naomi! She didn't read one book last night, she read five!"
Saturday we had a little birthday party for my sister (with an 11th anniversary celebration for Matt and I on the side). It wasn't a half-bad visit, all in all, but by today I think we were all ready for my family to head home again. We finished the laundry this morning, gathered all the markers and hot wheels cars from under the furniture, and piled everything back in the van. Somehow it all fit, and we were on the road by 2:30pm, which isn't too bad for our family. Matt put a theological lecture on the audio system and we settled if for the long drive.
Twenty miles from town, on a hilly rural highway, before we'd even reached the interstate, our van began to sputter, then slowed to a stop in the driveway of a farmer at the top of a hill. Three children and a farmer, all in snowsuits, looked at us...and we looked back. Crap. And now what?
After our brains resumed functioning we called my parents, who drove out in two cars to pick us all up. And we called AAA, who has lost about a thousand dollars on us in the last year, to come and tow our van, once again. And Matt began calling co-workers to see who could possibly cover his shift tomorrow. And I asked the kids, "Alright. Who prayed for us to spend more time at Grandma's?" Hannah's little face lit up. "I did!!" she happily admitted. I then passed out some peanut butter cookies to keep up moral while we awaited rescue.
We unloaded our van and packed all our things into the trunks of my parents' cars. Then we drove back to town and unloaded all or our things back into their house, where Toby promptly had a diarrhea explosion all over his pants. We're getting settled in again now, and we are thankful: thankful the car didn't break down three hours into our trip, thankful that we're all safe and warm, thankful that AAA doesn't have any rules against people like us being members of their awesome club, and thankful that Toby's explosion didn't happen in a car seat. Tonight we'll eat leftovers and play cards, and I pray the van will be fixed tomorrow, because as lovely as this little vacation has been, I'm starting to get anxious to be back in our normal boring routine.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Early Christmas Present and a Fall Photo Album Update
Last Thursday, December 13th, Naomi was acting peculiar. She came into the kitchen, where I was making sugar cookies, and pulled open the blinds to stare out the window. I scolded her for being careless with the blinds and not getting her schoolwork done. I asked her what she was looking at, and she said, "Oh...nothing." Then she went into our schoolroom and stood staring out the front window.
It was about the time that the school buses start pulling up in front of our house and unloading all the kids who live in the trailer court, so I asked if she was watching the kids come home. "No," she replied casually. Clearly, she wasn't giving out information, so I even entertained the thought that she might have a secret crush on a boy she was watching. I sure couldn't think of anything else she would be secretly stalking all afternoon.
I continued baking cookies and Naomi continued to disregard my reminders that she ought to be doing her schoolwork. At this point, I was so mystified that I demanded she tell me what in the world was going on. Backed into a corner, she sighed and turned to me. "It's a surprise," she scolded.
Oh. A surprise for me? Something outside for me? My children often made surprises for me that involved construction paper, toilet paper tubes, and scotch tape, but I doubted they would have planted one of those kinds of surprises outside. Could this possibly be something Matt was behind? No. Certainly not. Matt had not bought me a single Christmas present in the entire previous thirteen Christmas seasons we had known each other. Silly me...but...maybe.
About fifteen minutes later a large brown truck pulled up beside our house and all the children began screaming, "It's here! It's here! Don't open it, Mommy! Daddy says we have to keep you from opening it until he gets home! It's a surprise! Don't open it, Mommy!" The UPS man smiled broadly at my crowd of cheering children as I signed for the large package.
"They're telling me this is a surprise," I informed the delivery man, raising my eyebrows at him to ask if he had any information.
"I don't know nothing!" he laughed, with his eyes twinkling, and I thought that his job must be wonderful this time of year.
The large, trapezoid-shaped, brown box gave no clues to its origin, and though I had a reasonable idea of what might be inside, I pretended to have no idea at all.
"Oh...wow!" I mused, "What in the world did Daddy get me?" All the girls giggled with a wild excitement that told me they'd been plotting this for some time with Daddy. "It looks like...a new...pyramid decoration for my living room!"
More giggles erupted, "Nope. No, no, no. Not even close, Mommy."
"No? Hmmm....well, then...Oh! I know! It's a new swing set for my baby dolls!"
"No, no, no. Not at all."
"Can I open it now and look?"
"NO!! No opening until Daddy comes home!"
Matt was almost as giddy as the girls when he finally arrived home three hours later. We gathered in the living room and this is what I found.
Yes, this is the brand new iMac that just became available to order on November 30th. The card from the kids reads:
"Dear Mommy, you're the best mommy ever. We love you a lot. You'll really like our early Christmas present. It's a new computer that is even bigger and faster than Daddy's. I bet you'll really like it. Now you won't ever have to complain to Daddy about how slow your computer is. Have a Merry Christmas. Love, Naomi, Hannah, Emma, and Toby"
This is, for the record, the best Christmas present I could have possibly received. I have been using a Dell laptop that Matt and I bought in 2002, just after we were married. It is now exceedingly outdated, slow, and frustrating to try to complete any task on. This fall I have nearly given up on blogging or posting pictures because of the enormous amount of time wasted trying to use a computer that continually froze, crashed, and lost my work. Matt heard my laments and saw my frustration and put my needs before his own this year. I feel very well taken care of. Here are the before and after pictures of my desk.
So there's your pictorial highlights from summer and fall 2012 in the Eby house--all thanks to my new favorite Christmas present ever, from my favorite husband ever.
And now, back to real life: running a household where four children ages 6 and under are infected with strep throat at the same time. But that will have to be the subject of another blog.
It was about the time that the school buses start pulling up in front of our house and unloading all the kids who live in the trailer court, so I asked if she was watching the kids come home. "No," she replied casually. Clearly, she wasn't giving out information, so I even entertained the thought that she might have a secret crush on a boy she was watching. I sure couldn't think of anything else she would be secretly stalking all afternoon.
I continued baking cookies and Naomi continued to disregard my reminders that she ought to be doing her schoolwork. At this point, I was so mystified that I demanded she tell me what in the world was going on. Backed into a corner, she sighed and turned to me. "It's a surprise," she scolded.
Oh. A surprise for me? Something outside for me? My children often made surprises for me that involved construction paper, toilet paper tubes, and scotch tape, but I doubted they would have planted one of those kinds of surprises outside. Could this possibly be something Matt was behind? No. Certainly not. Matt had not bought me a single Christmas present in the entire previous thirteen Christmas seasons we had known each other. Silly me...but...maybe.
About fifteen minutes later a large brown truck pulled up beside our house and all the children began screaming, "It's here! It's here! Don't open it, Mommy! Daddy says we have to keep you from opening it until he gets home! It's a surprise! Don't open it, Mommy!" The UPS man smiled broadly at my crowd of cheering children as I signed for the large package.
"They're telling me this is a surprise," I informed the delivery man, raising my eyebrows at him to ask if he had any information.
"I don't know nothing!" he laughed, with his eyes twinkling, and I thought that his job must be wonderful this time of year.
The large, trapezoid-shaped, brown box gave no clues to its origin, and though I had a reasonable idea of what might be inside, I pretended to have no idea at all.
"Oh...wow!" I mused, "What in the world did Daddy get me?" All the girls giggled with a wild excitement that told me they'd been plotting this for some time with Daddy. "It looks like...a new...pyramid decoration for my living room!"
More giggles erupted, "Nope. No, no, no. Not even close, Mommy."
"No? Hmmm....well, then...Oh! I know! It's a new swing set for my baby dolls!"
"No, no, no. Not at all."
"Can I open it now and look?"
"NO!! No opening until Daddy comes home!"
Matt was almost as giddy as the girls when he finally arrived home three hours later. We gathered in the living room and this is what I found.
Yes, this is the brand new iMac that just became available to order on November 30th. The card from the kids reads:
"Dear Mommy, you're the best mommy ever. We love you a lot. You'll really like our early Christmas present. It's a new computer that is even bigger and faster than Daddy's. I bet you'll really like it. Now you won't ever have to complain to Daddy about how slow your computer is. Have a Merry Christmas. Love, Naomi, Hannah, Emma, and Toby"
This is, for the record, the best Christmas present I could have possibly received. I have been using a Dell laptop that Matt and I bought in 2002, just after we were married. It is now exceedingly outdated, slow, and frustrating to try to complete any task on. This fall I have nearly given up on blogging or posting pictures because of the enormous amount of time wasted trying to use a computer that continually froze, crashed, and lost my work. Matt heard my laments and saw my frustration and put my needs before his own this year. I feel very well taken care of. Here are the before and after pictures of my desk.
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| This is also the computer that Toby pulled 17 keys off when he was a toddler. B key never recovered. |
Matt has been working hard to get everything installed and transferred to my new computer. Most of his spare time in the last week has been dedicated to getting everything up and running for me. Today I finally retrieved a huge number of pictures from my camera that my previous, retarded computer couldn't handle. In honor of my new, updated capabilities. Here is a collection of some of my favorite moments from this summer and fall that I haven't had a chance to share yet.
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| "Mommy! Elijah got into the wipes tub and pulled out all the wipes!" |
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| I love how these boys are enjoying playing together already. |
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| Such a Daddy's boy |
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| The "twins" strike again, losing their first teeth 24 hours apart. |
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| Thanksgiving |
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| Superman, and his smaller side-kick Pooperman |
So there's your pictorial highlights from summer and fall 2012 in the Eby house--all thanks to my new favorite Christmas present ever, from my favorite husband ever.
And now, back to real life: running a household where four children ages 6 and under are infected with strep throat at the same time. But that will have to be the subject of another blog.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Hannah Gets Jipped Again
Ever since Emma effortlessly lost (yes, literally lost) her first tooth while eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and beat her older sister to the missing tooth club by one day, Hannah has been wiggling and yanking at her second loose tooth, determined not to be outdone again.
Matt had the day off of work today, so I had the pleasure of picking Emma up from preschool and driving her to speech therapy all by myself today. As we drove, we ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and had a lovely conversation about her morning at preschool. Emma clearly enjoyed having all the attention to herself, and especially having zero competition for pushing the elevator buttons at the therapy building.
After checking in, Emma brought a book to me and asked me to read it. I stared at her mouth for a second, then suddenly began laughing. "Emma?! What happened to your other loose tooth?!" I asked. "Did you eat another tooth?!"
Emma looked bewildered, put her finger in her mouth and felt the newly-widened gap on her lower jaw. She looked back to me, and seeing the amusement on my face, decided that it was indeed a funny situation. How in the world does a child unknowingly eat a baby tooth that we didn't even know was loose...twice!...while her poor older sister can't seem to coax her teeth out with a sledgehammer?
I called Matt to share the laugh, and after he had spread the announcement to the kids I heard Hannah yell, "I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!"
By the time we returned home two hours later Hannah had yanked that stubborn chomper right out of her jaw, and she couldn't have been more proud...at least for someone who had just won second place...again. Tonight the tooth fairy will be busy again. At least she pays the same, whether or not your tooth came out before your little sister's.
Matt had the day off of work today, so I had the pleasure of picking Emma up from preschool and driving her to speech therapy all by myself today. As we drove, we ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and had a lovely conversation about her morning at preschool. Emma clearly enjoyed having all the attention to herself, and especially having zero competition for pushing the elevator buttons at the therapy building.
After checking in, Emma brought a book to me and asked me to read it. I stared at her mouth for a second, then suddenly began laughing. "Emma?! What happened to your other loose tooth?!" I asked. "Did you eat another tooth?!"
Emma looked bewildered, put her finger in her mouth and felt the newly-widened gap on her lower jaw. She looked back to me, and seeing the amusement on my face, decided that it was indeed a funny situation. How in the world does a child unknowingly eat a baby tooth that we didn't even know was loose...twice!...while her poor older sister can't seem to coax her teeth out with a sledgehammer?
I called Matt to share the laugh, and after he had spread the announcement to the kids I heard Hannah yell, "I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!"
By the time we returned home two hours later Hannah had yanked that stubborn chomper right out of her jaw, and she couldn't have been more proud...at least for someone who had just won second place...again. Tonight the tooth fairy will be busy again. At least she pays the same, whether or not your tooth came out before your little sister's.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Ingraspable Complexity: A Health Update
Another day, another doctor--it's one of those kinds of weeks again. I haven't posted much of a health update on the kids lately because, while there have been health struggles, we haven't gotten much in the way of conclusive answers. After another long morning with another doctor I feel I need to vent, conclusive answers or not. So for those who are interested here is the run-down on the Eby kids' health lately.
Elijah--This poor little guy has been afflicted with diarrhea ever since the rounds and rounds of antibiotics in September for his ear infections. Time and probiotics are not healing it either, it's getting worse. He was the most ill over the Thanksgiving weekend (of course), with watery diarrhea running all down into his footed sleeper 10-15 times in 24 hours. He had finally begun sleeping through the night two weeks prior, but when diarrhea began striking all night long I had to return to tending to him every hour or two around the clock. We tested him for C Diff, and that was negative. It can't be rotavirus, because he's been vaccinated against that and because the doctor didn't think it smelled like rotavirus. We just had his blood drawn again on Monday to check for food allergies, and are still awaiting those results.
Toby--He's just getting over his second ear infection this year and has a mysterious mouth ulcer that has ruined his appetite, but overall he seems to be in better health since we discovered his milk allergy and removed dairy from his diet in October.
Emma--This is my healthiest child. She's had a few preschool-shared viruses but is doing great overall. Her speech therapist even suggested we are almost done with her need for speech therapy! Emma is now able to produce all of the sounds that are age appropriate for her (th, l, and v aren't considered delayed until kids are six or seven). She doesn't always include them in her everyday speech, but she will if she is reminded, and if all she needs now is a reminder to speak carefully, that's something I can do at home with her. This is amazing news just 6 months after therapy started!
Hannah--She is still plagued by tummy aches, with some weeks being better than others. But she insists that there is a big improvement since we pulled corn from her diet and she still won't touch a corn product so I have to believe that was at least part of the problem. She is still tiny for her age, weighing 42 lbs at 6 1/2 years old, but the doctors assure me that her growth is adequate. She certainly has the perfect ballerina figure.
Naomi--Ah, Naomi, my mystery child. We met this morning with one of Naomi's pediatricians who is very gifted at looking at the child as a whole, as opposed to all of her specialists (nephrologist for kidneys, GI doctor for liver fibrosis and celiac, cardiologist for heart murmur, ophthalmologist for crossed eyes, and orthopedic doctor for club feet) who only look at their specialized problem area. Naomi has suddenly gained about 10 lbs this fall. My initial fear was that it was water retention due to decreased kidney function. Labs initially showed her kidney function was decreased, but the nephrologist thought it could be a rare side effect of a medication she was on. We removed the medication and two weeks later her kidney function had improved again (still not normal, but not immediately worrisome anymore), so that was a huge relief for us, but didn't help to solve the weight gain mystery.
I brainstormed with this pediatrician this morning about Naomi's weight gain, and she wanted to say the weight gain was not water retention, but actual body mass added. Naomi has grown about a centimeter in height, and a 10 lb weight gain is possible if something were affecting her ability to feel full normally or affecting the way her body is metabolizing food. The doctor reminded me that Naomi had shown antibodies to the thyroid gland at her last blood draw in Sept, and though it was a small amount of antibodies, it was definitely abnormal. Her thyroid function still seemed adequate (with normal T3, T4, and TSH), but that doesn't mean she might not be feeling more subtle effects of a struggling thyroid that is under attack by her own immune system.
Naomi also mysteriously has an elevated total IgE antibody level, which indicates an allergic reaction of some kind taking place in her body, but extensive allergic testing has yet to find the specific allergen. This pediatrician actually asked me what I had been researching on the Internet about Naomi's conditions lately--not to shame me as some doctors do, but because she respects me by now, and she knows that I devote my life to this and that she can learn from my research. I mentioned some things I had read about anti-thyroid antibodies sometimes indicating other autoimmune diseases such as type I diabetes or rheumatoid arthritis. I shared what I've learned recently about how different gene mutations can disable the primary cilia in some kinds of cells throughout the body causing the kidney/liver disease Naomi has, and my frustration over still not finding out which mutation she has, and therefore not being able to predict accurately the course of her disease progression.
Naomi has had multiple chromosomal and genetic tests run without finding any mutations, but today the doctor explained that because we still don't know everything about the human genome, sometimes mutations are discovered that haven't been linked definitively with a disease yet. Normally these mutations are not reported since their clinical significance is still unknown. Naomi's mutation may be just such a case, since her disease is unique to her as far as we can tell. The doctor ordered yet another chromosomal microarray analysis--this time to be done by someone she knows personally who "owes her a favor" and may be able to release information on mutations detected that wouldn't ordinarily be reported. This doctor is willing to personally research any mutations found and attempt to correlate them with Naomi's symptoms in the hopes of figuring out just what is at the cause of at least some of her disease and what we might expect in the future. (In my opinion, that makes her the best doctor in the world.)
We concluded that so much in the human body is still a mystery to us, and autoimmune diseases are among the most mysterious to the medical profession. We know that they happen but we do not know why, and we are powerless to stop them, short of suppressing the entire immune system, which obviously has terrible consequences of its own. So we decided to re-check Naomi's thyroid once more and see if the level of antibodies has risen or not, and to be sure the function is still adequate. She wants me to be extra-vigilant about Naomi's diet and exercise. Beyond that we wait and watch, and deal with symptoms as they come.
There is such a false sense of control that comes from all the accumulated wealth of medical knowledge we have to draw on today. We think we understand the human body. We think we can control it. Then there is Naomi, for whom the best doctor is the most humble one--the doctor who is willing to say, "I really don't know what is going on inside your daughter, but I will do my best to find out."
Ultimately, I am reminded that Naomi is fearfully and wonderfully made, that the mind-blowing intricacies of the human genetic code and the ingraspable complexity within each cell of each system in her body are undeniable indicators that someone with knowledge far greater than ours designed her, and that she is upheld by that same powerful hand. Time and chance did not design the intelligent human immune system, and therefore I rest, knowing her immune "malfunction" has a designer as well. The potter has a right to shape the vessel as he sees fit--each for a unique purpose well beyond our comprehension. If I cannot understand how Naomi's body works I cannot expect to understand how her body's designer is working in this world on a grander scale. I guess that is the essence of worship.
Elijah--This poor little guy has been afflicted with diarrhea ever since the rounds and rounds of antibiotics in September for his ear infections. Time and probiotics are not healing it either, it's getting worse. He was the most ill over the Thanksgiving weekend (of course), with watery diarrhea running all down into his footed sleeper 10-15 times in 24 hours. He had finally begun sleeping through the night two weeks prior, but when diarrhea began striking all night long I had to return to tending to him every hour or two around the clock. We tested him for C Diff, and that was negative. It can't be rotavirus, because he's been vaccinated against that and because the doctor didn't think it smelled like rotavirus. We just had his blood drawn again on Monday to check for food allergies, and are still awaiting those results.
Toby--He's just getting over his second ear infection this year and has a mysterious mouth ulcer that has ruined his appetite, but overall he seems to be in better health since we discovered his milk allergy and removed dairy from his diet in October.
Emma--This is my healthiest child. She's had a few preschool-shared viruses but is doing great overall. Her speech therapist even suggested we are almost done with her need for speech therapy! Emma is now able to produce all of the sounds that are age appropriate for her (th, l, and v aren't considered delayed until kids are six or seven). She doesn't always include them in her everyday speech, but she will if she is reminded, and if all she needs now is a reminder to speak carefully, that's something I can do at home with her. This is amazing news just 6 months after therapy started!
Hannah--She is still plagued by tummy aches, with some weeks being better than others. But she insists that there is a big improvement since we pulled corn from her diet and she still won't touch a corn product so I have to believe that was at least part of the problem. She is still tiny for her age, weighing 42 lbs at 6 1/2 years old, but the doctors assure me that her growth is adequate. She certainly has the perfect ballerina figure.
Naomi--Ah, Naomi, my mystery child. We met this morning with one of Naomi's pediatricians who is very gifted at looking at the child as a whole, as opposed to all of her specialists (nephrologist for kidneys, GI doctor for liver fibrosis and celiac, cardiologist for heart murmur, ophthalmologist for crossed eyes, and orthopedic doctor for club feet) who only look at their specialized problem area. Naomi has suddenly gained about 10 lbs this fall. My initial fear was that it was water retention due to decreased kidney function. Labs initially showed her kidney function was decreased, but the nephrologist thought it could be a rare side effect of a medication she was on. We removed the medication and two weeks later her kidney function had improved again (still not normal, but not immediately worrisome anymore), so that was a huge relief for us, but didn't help to solve the weight gain mystery.
I brainstormed with this pediatrician this morning about Naomi's weight gain, and she wanted to say the weight gain was not water retention, but actual body mass added. Naomi has grown about a centimeter in height, and a 10 lb weight gain is possible if something were affecting her ability to feel full normally or affecting the way her body is metabolizing food. The doctor reminded me that Naomi had shown antibodies to the thyroid gland at her last blood draw in Sept, and though it was a small amount of antibodies, it was definitely abnormal. Her thyroid function still seemed adequate (with normal T3, T4, and TSH), but that doesn't mean she might not be feeling more subtle effects of a struggling thyroid that is under attack by her own immune system.
Naomi also mysteriously has an elevated total IgE antibody level, which indicates an allergic reaction of some kind taking place in her body, but extensive allergic testing has yet to find the specific allergen. This pediatrician actually asked me what I had been researching on the Internet about Naomi's conditions lately--not to shame me as some doctors do, but because she respects me by now, and she knows that I devote my life to this and that she can learn from my research. I mentioned some things I had read about anti-thyroid antibodies sometimes indicating other autoimmune diseases such as type I diabetes or rheumatoid arthritis. I shared what I've learned recently about how different gene mutations can disable the primary cilia in some kinds of cells throughout the body causing the kidney/liver disease Naomi has, and my frustration over still not finding out which mutation she has, and therefore not being able to predict accurately the course of her disease progression.
Naomi has had multiple chromosomal and genetic tests run without finding any mutations, but today the doctor explained that because we still don't know everything about the human genome, sometimes mutations are discovered that haven't been linked definitively with a disease yet. Normally these mutations are not reported since their clinical significance is still unknown. Naomi's mutation may be just such a case, since her disease is unique to her as far as we can tell. The doctor ordered yet another chromosomal microarray analysis--this time to be done by someone she knows personally who "owes her a favor" and may be able to release information on mutations detected that wouldn't ordinarily be reported. This doctor is willing to personally research any mutations found and attempt to correlate them with Naomi's symptoms in the hopes of figuring out just what is at the cause of at least some of her disease and what we might expect in the future. (In my opinion, that makes her the best doctor in the world.)
We concluded that so much in the human body is still a mystery to us, and autoimmune diseases are among the most mysterious to the medical profession. We know that they happen but we do not know why, and we are powerless to stop them, short of suppressing the entire immune system, which obviously has terrible consequences of its own. So we decided to re-check Naomi's thyroid once more and see if the level of antibodies has risen or not, and to be sure the function is still adequate. She wants me to be extra-vigilant about Naomi's diet and exercise. Beyond that we wait and watch, and deal with symptoms as they come.
There is such a false sense of control that comes from all the accumulated wealth of medical knowledge we have to draw on today. We think we understand the human body. We think we can control it. Then there is Naomi, for whom the best doctor is the most humble one--the doctor who is willing to say, "I really don't know what is going on inside your daughter, but I will do my best to find out."
Ultimately, I am reminded that Naomi is fearfully and wonderfully made, that the mind-blowing intricacies of the human genetic code and the ingraspable complexity within each cell of each system in her body are undeniable indicators that someone with knowledge far greater than ours designed her, and that she is upheld by that same powerful hand. Time and chance did not design the intelligent human immune system, and therefore I rest, knowing her immune "malfunction" has a designer as well. The potter has a right to shape the vessel as he sees fit--each for a unique purpose well beyond our comprehension. If I cannot understand how Naomi's body works I cannot expect to understand how her body's designer is working in this world on a grander scale. I guess that is the essence of worship.
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