Whose Dog Is It, Anyway?

We grew up with dogs. Well, sort of. They were toy poodles, and in many people's eyes -- including my own -- those aren't real dogs, but Lucy and Pumpkin were our dogs. When my sister and I grew up and moved out of my parents' house, I brought my cat with me, but Pumpkin stayed with my parents.

I'm not really a dog person. For some reason, cleaning the litter box to me is so much better than using a bag and picking up the actual poop. I joke that I'll get a dog when the wee ones are old enough to clean up after it, but I don't want one even then really.

My sister is more of a dog person. She started volunteering at an animal shelter walking dogs every Saturday. She'd spend hours there walking hte dogs, and she fell in love with one of them. The only problem was that she lived in an apartment building that didn't allow dogs.

She begged my parents to watch the dog until she could move into an apartment that allowed dogs, but they weren't up for it. Luckily, the dog was adopted. And then returned three weeks later. Again.

To me, this was a red flag, but my sister wasn't deterred. She asked my mom again, when my mom while my mom was at the funeral of her BIL that she hadn't gotten to see before he died. My sucker mom gave in. Low blow by my sister in my eyes, but hey -- not my problem.

My sister adopted Stella, and Stella went to live with my parents until my sister could find an apartment that allowed dogs. That's when we discovered that Stella was dog aggressive, people aggressive, and food aggressive. Poor toy poodle pumpkin didn't really stand a chance around the food bowl unless they were fed separately.

My parents took Stella to training over and over in an effort to retrain her, and they were partly successful. They've had her now for almost five years, and she's a great dog now.

Oh, did I mention that they've had her for five years? Yeah. Somehow, my sister never found that apartment that allowed dogs. Shocking, I know.

This year, she started vet school. She moved downstate away from the rest of us and talked about adopting a dog down there to keep her company. I kept my own counsel but wondered how much time and effort she'd be able to devote to a dog as a vet student.

Two weeks at school, she found her dog. Milo is a muddle (my term for a poodle mixed with ummm something). While he's larger than the other dogs we'd had before Stella (a large lab mix), he's still pretty small at around twenty pounds. You can tell he was spoiled before my sister adopted him, and he's just a little bit obnoxious. And no, my sister can't leave him by himself.

As soon as I heard that she had adopted a dog, I bet my husband how long before the dog is my parents' dog.

I think I won that over/under. I just found out that my parents have had the dog at their house since Thanksgiving. They're keeping the dog until my sister starts up school again in late January so that she has time to study without the distraction. Yes, that's a direct quote.

That's not really a bet I wanted to win. I feel kinda sorry for my parents.

My Time Is A Priority

Last week at church, they announced at the end that they will be doing a Christmas pageant on Christmas Eve and that all children of all ages are invited to participate. I turned to the wee ones:

Me: Mister Man, do you want to be in the Christmas play?
Mister Man: No.
Me: Ok. Little Miss, do you want --
Little Miss: YES!
Me: Mister Man, are you sure you don't want to be in the play?
Mister Man: I'm sure.
Me: It will be fun. You'll get to wear a costume and be on stage and show everyone what you can do. Doesn't that sound like fun?
Mister Man: Yes.
Me: So you'll do it then?
Mister Man: No, I don't want to.
Me: Can you explain to me why you don't want to?
Mister Man: Yes. I'm tired of church. I don't want to be here all night and all day. I'm going to want to go home before then.
Me: Umm, kiddo. All you have to do is come to church a half hour early on Christmas Eve. That's it.
Mister Man: Oh. Ok then. I want to do it! Who do I get to be?

And later, after social hour, when we were leaving:

Little Miss: Wahhhhhhhhhh! (laying on the ground crying tantrum)
Me: Little Miss, can you explain why you're crying?
Little Miss: I (sniff) don't (sniff) want (sniff) to (sniff) go (sniff) home (sniff) yet!
Me: Sweetie, why not? Aren't you hungry for lunch?
Little Miss: Yes, but I didn't get to do my play yet!
Me: Oh, Little Miss, that's not until Christmas Eve. We aren't doing it today.
Little Miss: Really? Ok, let's go then.

They're now both on the same page, and they're both excited. They keep talking about how Mister Man is going to be a shepherd and Little Miss a sheep and how he's going to take care of her. Or vice versa. I keep explaining that they aren't going to get to choose who they'll be in the play, but it isn't really sinking ing. Gotta love the wee ones and their thought processes!



PS Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers and positive wishes. I really appreciate it. We're now back from the hospital and discharged. Fever is gone, and lungs are clear. We're all exhausted, but we're on the road to recovery. Fingers crossed tonight is an easy night with just a couple nebulizer treatments and that tomorrow is a just a quick check in with the doctor!

How To Survive An ER Visit

If you're a parent, you've inevitably already been or will be (again) to the ER with a child. It's one of those facts of life, but one that your child gets to teach you rather than the other way around.

When you go to the ER, it's never a simple, easy visit. There's always something that goes wrong, the wait is longer than you can understand, and then there are those horror stories you hear about....

In an effort to keep your sanity, I've compiled the following list of things to bring with you to the ER outside the obvious ones like your sick or injured child (SOIC), insurance card and a huge measure of patience.

1) A large bladder and/or a non-sick person. The ER visit is never a quick one, and the last thing you want to do is to try to find a bathroom and drag the SOIC with you. We actually brought both this time around. That, of course, explains why my husband called me while I was registering Little Miss with the ER department to ask how much longer I was going to be so he could go to the bathroom.

2) Dinner. Yes, you will be waiting for a long time. The last thing I want or need is to be eating out of the overpriced, calorie-laden vending machines. Friday, I scooped up the leftovers I was planning to eat for dinner and put them in my backpack and ate them throughout the evening. Much more satisfying than the alternative.

3) A portable DVD player and DVDs. While we ended up with eight DVD options for (expected) three day hospital stay, Little Miss watched only two. And really only one and a quarter. I think even I now have the Peter Pan movie memorized. But when the alternative is having your child run around like a banshee (not that we saw multiple unsupervised children doing this) or watching the Family Guy (uhhh, no), the DVD player is hugely helpful in distracting the SOIC during the wait.

4) Pajamas and a Pull-Up. Little Miss is potty trained, but we still brought Pull-Ups for her. Once we were back in the ER room, we changed her into the Pull-Up and some pj bottoms in addition to her hospital gown. This meant she was free to doze on and off and we didnt't have to worry about getting her to a potty on time, which is hard enough with a SOIC. Note: If your child has explosive diarrhea or suspected rotovirus, skip the pj bottoms.

5) The favorite stuffed animal and special blankets. Little Miss didn't want to bring these, partly because I hadn't let her bring them into the pediatrician's office earlier on Friday because I didn't want to get more germs on them. In the hospital, though, you're in your own room that's more sanitized (go with me here). Plus, these comforts help when it's time to sleep or when the SOIC needs comforting.

7) A coloring book and/or Play Doh. If you're like me, DVDs only last so long. These other items are great because if you need to toss them after your stay because they got dirty or gross or otherwise germy, no worries. They're cheap and meant to be somewhat disposable. No comment on how often they've been used by Little Miss so far....

8) A laptop and power cord. Many hospitals are now wireless (as is the one we're in now). Just because your SOIC is sleeping or otherwise occupied doesn't mean you need to be bored. With your computer, you can entertain yourself for hours! Plus, you don't need a light on to use your laptop when your SOIC has gone to sleep.

9) Magazines. When you'e somewhere that isn't convenient to use the laptop, or if the internet connection goes down at the hospital, you need something to read. If you're like me, you don't want to read a book in a hospital and then bring it (and all the new germs) home. Bonus: when you bring both book and laptop, the laptop screen can act as a mini-light when your SOIC needs darkness to sleep.

10) A fifth. When your SOIC starts screaming that he wants to go home and wants to know when it's time to leave, or when the IV stick isn't working and you're on the third stick of the second hand, or when the SOIC screams Mommy! Mommy! when you're sitting right there holding her and she can't open her eyes long enough to see you and process this, you need to reach into that handy dandy backpack and grab a fifth. While a real fifth would be nice, the hospital might frown upon it, so think of it as a fifth of patience. That deep down place where mommies somehow find a way to battle through and survive.

Here's hoping you don't go to the ER anytime soon. And if you do have to go, maybe this list will make things a little easier for you. Oops, I almost forgot: cell phone charger, too. No comment from me on this one, but I know exactly how many beeps before my cell loses power now.

Oh How Quickly It Turns

At ten this morning, my phone rang. On the other end was the nurse from Little Miss's preschool -- mind you, for the second day in a row calling. Yesterday, she wanted to know if she could put lotion on Little Miss's chapped hands.

Today, she wanted to know if I'd given Little Miss any cough medicine, as she was sent to the nurse's office for coughing and the nurse noticed she had a rapid heartbeat (I've since learned that I need to know how many beats that means). Fortunately, she had no fever, and the nurse didn't feel I needed to do anything at that point (read: don't leave my planned morning and pick her up from school).

When her bus pulled up, I noticed the girl in front sleeping and started to make a comment to the bus driver about other kids getting their naps on the bus but that Little Miss never falls asleep. I stopped when the bus driver showed me my sleeping girl. Hmm. I brought her inside to sit down for lunch, but she wanted no lunch and just wanted to go take her nap. Uh-oh.

A little before 2:30, she woke up whining that she didn't feel good. She never says she isn't feeling good. I gave her a hug and realized she was warm. Yep, fever of 102.2. And I noticed she was breathing rapidly and had some retracted breathing going on, too. I sighed and called the doctor who got me in at 3.

It's never a good sign when the doctor listen's to your child's chest for a loooong time. And then puts on the pulse-ox reader and sighs, saying, "That's what I was afraid of." Yes, we've been down this road before. It involved a trip to the ER at 5pm after an early afternoon doctor's appointment. Oh, and her fever was now 103.3, up over a degree in less than an hour.

He gave her a breathing treatment around 3:30, and yes, we have the nebulizer at home for future treatments. She responded well, and we decided not to send her to the hospital for a chest X-ray and monitoring. We went home with a prescription for Omnicef (since she's allergic to Amoxicillan) to treat what he strongly suspected was pneumonia.

By 5:20, she was back to the retracted and labored, fast breathing. And her fever was back at 103.7. I made the obligatory call to the doctor on call, already knowing what she was going to tell me.

I'm currently writing this from the ER room she's sitting in (isn't technology nice? The whole hospital here is wireless!) as she's being monitored. Her fever went up to 104.8 when they brought her into a room. Fortunately, her chest X-Ray was clear, but last time it was clear on Day One and mucky as all get out the next day. They took her oxygen level while we were waiting for a room to open up, and it was low enough that they put her on oxygen while we waited. Wheee!

As an aside, before you decide to go to an ER, check to see whether it's a full moon. Tonight is a full moon, in case you're wondering. And the place is packed. With lots of nut jobs (although folks who groaned ohhh nooooo when they saw us walk up to the only empty couch that happened to be somewhat in their vicinity, was that really necessary?). And little parent supervision.

Anyway, she has responded again somewhat to the second breathing treatment, and they haven't given her any steroids as yet -- although they just as well may have since she hasn't closed her eyes yet after she had her nose violently swabbed by a nurse as she was sound asleep. Oxygen level is at 94% which isn't great, and we can't get her pulse below about 160, so it's looking likely that she'll be admitted. That, by the way is down significantly from the 209 she spiked at while we were here. I'm already planning to spend the night here with her, poor kiddo. We'll know in an hour.

On the plus side, both the wee ones were scheduled to spend the night with my parents tonight because my husband has a Scholastic Bowl tournament tomorrow morning where he's leaving by 6:30 and won't be home until evening. And I have choir practice at 10am. And a cookie exchange I am (I mean, I was) hosting. So Mister Man is at my parents' house, and they are unaware of the recent change in plans. Shockingly, Little Miss completely understood that Mister Man was still spending the night at Grandma and Grandpa's house and she wasn't. Then again, that tells you how sick she is, doesn't it?

On the downside, I'm totally on my own tomorrow. I'm hoping that we're able to be released, but even if we are, I need to wake up every three hours to give her a breathing treatment round the clock for the next few days. And Monday going to school is looking less and less likely, which is a problem for me and work - home of thirteen percent cuts in my department on Thursday.

Murphy's Law I've become intimately reacquainted with: once you fall asleep, someone must bother you within two minutes of fall asleep, regardless of how long you were left alone before then. This has happened to us: before she went to see the triage nurse, when she had to get her chest X-ray, when they brought her back to her room, when they did her nose swab, and again when the doctor came to check on her levels just a few moments ago. Fortunately, Mommy rocks at getting her to sleep (Daddy failed miserably in his lone attempt, although it was entertaining for me to watch).

Oh, and today's afternoon plans of making next year's calendars for my family? And downloading the last month's pictures from my camera? And maybe trying to find a picture to send out with our Christmas cards? Yeah... those plans were sorta shot. Maybe I'll celebrate Groundhog Day instead of Christmas this year!



PS As of yesterday afternoon, Mister Man has also lost his only pair of winter boots (see Monday's post).

Gotta Love Genetics

It's that time of year again ... technically that time of twice a year. Hmm that semi-annual time of year? Yeah, that sounds better. Dentist time.

The wee ones have been going to the dentist for awhile, and they don't hate it -- yet. They will in time, I'm sure. And we know it will either be because of me or because of my husband. Or maybe both. We've all got our issues, and right now it looks like Mister Man has my teeth (hopefully) and Little Miss has my husband's.

At three, I'm afraid she has cavities. Note that I used the plural there. When I brush her teeth, all of a sudden I thought she had food stuck in two lower molars. I brushed. I brushed some more. It was still there. It's been there for awhile now, but luckily next Wednesday is their dentist appointment (and yes, I have to take off work to take them thanks to my husband scheduling their appointments for when we'll be out of town). I have my fingers crossed that they aren't cavities, as three is awfully young to start (and yes, I've read all the statistics).

BUT.

We don't drink juice (ever, we're weird that way). We brush as we're supposed to. We don't eat gummy candy or hard candies. She eats a lot of cheese. If she has cavities, it's all on my husband and his mouth full of yuck.

Me? I have totally different issues.

I've never had a cavity. Ever. In 33 plus years. In fact, I think I'd freak out if I had a cavity and had to get it taken care of. I don't like things in my mouth, and I especially don't like things in my mouth that vibrate (take that as you will, you dirty minded people).

How do I know this? Well, that's where my issues come in. I have no wisdom teeth, and not because I've had them taken out at some point. I just was born with no wisdom teeth. I'm also missing a tooth just to the left of my front teeth on top and have a half tooth on the right side next to the front teeth.

In fact, that missing tooth was the only reason I had to have braces, as the permanent tooth for the one behind it came in where the missing tooth was supposed to be. Once it was moved into place, I had the worst dentist appointment ever.

Keep in mind that they had to pull the baby tooth before all this happened. And I made them use general anesthesia because I couldn't handle being awake while they worked in my mouth like that. Now I had to have new teeth put on and in. That's a lot of work in my mouth. Four hours of work in my mouth, if I remember correctly. And no, they wouldn't let me do general again for that (party poopers).

For four hours, they ground down the teeth on either side of where the fake tooth was going in. I could feel the heat created on those teeth as they were ground to dust. And that dust flew everywhere. For four hours (have I mentioned yet that it was a four hour visit?), dust went up my nose and made me sneeze -- which is not what you want to do when you have drills and other such fun tools in your mouth. The dust coated my tongue and went down my throat, making me gag.

I could smell it, I could taste it, and I could feel the vibration over and over and over. Long before they finally finished, I was shaking and in a cold sweat. I had that done when I was 14 or so. They aren't supposed to be permanent from what I've been told, and I should have them replaced, says my dentist. Umm, not likely. If and when they fall out, I'll replace them, but I am not voluntarily going through that again.

And Mister Man? He looks like he's got my nice strong teeth. I can only hope that he doesn't have the same missing and half tooth issues that I do. His sensory stuff? Wayyy worse than mine. He gags when he eats food with the wrong texture. Fortunately, we've got years before we need to start worrying about that.

In the meantime, wish the wee ones luck at the dentist next Wednesday!

What ARE They Teaching?

My husband is a public school teacher, and we'd always planned to send the wee ones to public schools. After seeing these antics, however, maybe I should consider homeschooling! It cracks me up.

Tasty Tuesday!

I don't know if this will become a regular feature or not, but I do know that I love cooking, I do it a lot, and apparently I have some unique recipes. This is definitely one of them.

Bunsteads have been around in my family for a couple generations now. It's something that my paternal grandmother made every New Years, and all her children make it every New Years, and now I make it every New Years (my sister is a vegetarian but she doesn't cook anyway).

It's one of those things that souns absolutely disgusting when you take a look at the ingredients. Or at least it does to me. And it did to my husband. In fact, the human vacuum cleaner I married almost refused to eat them the first time he saw them. Luckily, we were still in the dating phase, so he felt obligated to at least try them. He's hooked.

I'm pretty sure this recipe came about as a way to get rid of leftovers in a very Depression Era household. It has all the things that you have in the fridge after Christmas (or at least all the things *we* have in the fridge), with a few extra staple tossed in.

I tend to make up a huge batch and freeze whatever sandwiches I'm not going to eat within the next couple days. It makes a great freezer meal to pop them straight into the oven and twenty-five minutes later - mmmmm! I actually heated one up for lunch today (since we do ham for Thanksgiving, I get to make these twice a year!) and am eating it as I type.

While there is a recipe below, I don't believe that I've ever followed it exactly. I just put in what I have and however much looks right without ever measuring. It always gets eaten, and it's always delish! The only thing I tend to go light on is the mayo, as I'm not a fan of mayo, so I use just enough to get the rest of the ingredients lightly coated.

Bunsteads:

6 hamburger buns*
2 T onion (I always overshoot on this)


1/4 lb cheddar cheese (ok so it calls for American, but I think that's gross), cubed (~1 c)
2 T green pimento stuffed olives, chopped
3 hardboiled eggs, chopped (I slice them in the handy dandy egg slicer two ways and call it chopped)
1 c ham, cubed
2 T sweet pickle, chopped
2 T green pepper, chopped (I frequently omit this)
1/2 c mayo (it apparently calls for salad dressing but we've ALWAYS used mayo -- see, I told you I've never really used the recipe, and I use closer to 1/4-1/3 c when I have much more volume)

Place the buns on a square of tin foil. Spoon in enough of the mixture to make a heaping pile (the more you put in, the more falls out later, but it's all good!). Cover with the top of the bun, and fold the tin foil all around the sandwich. Cook in a 300 degree oven for twenty-five minutes (more or less). Eat immediately!

*We had only hotdog buns this time around, so I used those. It was fine, but a little messier to eat. I also used wheat bread when I ran out of buns, which was ok but got a little soggy.


Twenty-five minutes later, and you have this!







Yum!