Out They Go

A couple of months ago, Aaron was complaining of another sore throat. He was getting them a lot, never tested positive for strep, and with Tylenol he'd be just fine. Sinus drainage? Random topic to whine about?

Nope.

Tonsilliths. Or tonsil stones, if you prefer.

As I peered down his throat one day, I noticed a little white thing sticking out of his right tonsil. Well, that just wouldn't do, so I wrestled him to the ground, promised him money if he'd just let me "look", and then pushed on his tonsil with a Q-tip.

The white thing popped out of his tonsil and stuck to the back of his throat. Aaron was gagging as I tried to pick it up with the Q-tip and pull it out of his mouth. Success!

It was about the size of a small pea, grayish white, firm like a cottage cheese curd, and stinky. Really, really stinky.

So gross.

Soooooo cool!

I thought is was just a big ball of hardened pus, and surely there would be more...but Aaron wouldn't let me "look" again. Surprisingly, his sore throat was completely gone.

A few weeks later it happened again, and once more, it was awesomely cool. And gross and stinky.

Time to see the doctor - this had to be one horrible infection.

Saw the regular doc who sent us off to an ENT, who diagnosed Cryptic Chronic Tonsillitis - the tonsils have swiss-cheese like holes that fill up with food, bacteria, mucous, and saliva, and it gets all compacted and hard (now it's a tonsillith) and bothersome or even painful when it starts to come out. It's actually very common, and many people express their tonsils once a week or more. Sometimes the tonsillith will work its way out on its own or can be coughed out. It can cause bad breath.

Since Aaron was pretty young to be getting these, and they were causing frequent sore throats, we decided to get his tonsils out. Better at 9 than when he's older.

This is a small tonsillith - very similar to what Aaron's looked like.


And this is a really big one. You could pull that one out with tweezers.

So yesterday morning, even though I didn't have my driver's license, insurance cards or money that I could access, we headed to the hospital to have those pesky tonsils removed. Funny...my kid going in for surgery was not the most stressful part of my week.

Geez, we had to get there early: 6:30 in the morning

Glad it's not me!

Cameron being uncharacteristically helpful in getting Aaron into his gown.

Cheery yellow socks

Confident before surgery

Well, maybe just a little anxious

Then 20 minutes of surgery, an hour of recovery and he's dressed and almost ready to go home.

First, we must contemplate the popsicle.

And somehow get it to the mouth.

Home...and this is pretty much the rest of the day.

Sleep tight, Aaron.

I promise I won't let your pain meds run out before I give you the next dose.

When the Pavement Strikes Back

So yeah, the whole family has new bikes. It's our "thing". Troy and I may have paid for it with our hard-earned money, but Aaron has paid for it, literally, with his flesh.

The past two times that we've gone out on bikes, Aaron has ended up lying on the pavement, wounded and crying.

He has a helmet, so his head's been safe, but he really really really needs gloves, elbow pads, a chest guard, and some heavy duty knee pads. The kid's going to look like Iron Man every time he gets on his bike.

I don't know what the problem is - it's not like he's going too fast or over a bumpy road. I guess he's still kind of new to the "no training wheels!" thing, but still. Poor, poor, bloody kid.

This is the latest:

He also has scuffed up hands, an elbow scrape, an arm abrasion, and a belly bruise. Life is tough. But his spirit is tougher - he wants to ride some more.

Long pants, sweetie. At least until I can get you the knee pads.

Oh, and pass the Neosporin.

Sick

Sincere apologies for the following.

The sound is unmistakable - your kid throwing up in the middle of the night. And when it's far away - as in down the hall and in his bedroom, not close by in the bathroom - you just know it's going to be a long night.

There will be laundry. Lots and lots of laundry.

Over the weekend Cam was battling a stomach bug and at 2 am he lost the battle. There was no warning, he insisted, he simply woke up and threw up.

By the time I got to his room, he was standing up on his bed, horrified (and still half asleep), and looking down at the mess that had just come out of him. Cam likes lots of pillows and blankets - he creates a nest of sorts every night - so the damage was pretty big.

There were three pillows and three pillow cases, a blanket and a thick comforter, a fitted sheet, and Cam's boxers, all needing to be washed. That was at least four loads. The mattress needed scrubbing and Cam needed a bath and his hair washed. I wanted a shower too.

But the one who got it the worst, by far, was Oliver. He's been sleeping in Cam's nest for a while now, right up by his head, and trust me when I say that that was the worst place to be at 2 am on Sunday morning. Oliver. Was. Drenched. From head to tail, he was covered!

Now Troy has never been able to handle the cleaning and caring of a vomiting child. He has a sympathy reflex that makes him fairly useless, but that night, he was just going to have to suck it up and help with this. Troy's job was to bathe Oliver and to keep him from cleaning himself. I could hear Troy's faux retching while I tackled the bed and the mattress.

I wiped the bedding, stripped the bed, the washing machine got started, the mattress was scrubbed and sprayed (Febreeze, I love you), and Aaron moved to my bed to escape the smell. After Oliver got his bath (Thanks, Troy...I knew you could do it), Cam got in the tub and cleaned up, and then laid down on the floor on the pallet of blankets that I'd made for him.

I've been doing this whole parenting thing long enough to know the number one rule: Do NOT put a vomiting child into your bed after his bed has been ruined. You will end up with another ruined bed, and this time, it will be yours. Vomiting children sleep on the floor...or even better, in the bathtub.

I started another load of laundry.

We gave Cam some chewable Pepto Bismol, which he promptly threw up - made it to the bathroom this time. Oliver still smelled funky and Cam was crying over his stomach pain. Troy gave Oliver another bath and I headed to Walmart for the good stuff - liquid Pepto. It was close to 3 am.

Now Walmart at 3 am is...interesting. I didn't see any other shoppers, but the place was packed with people stocking the shelves. And anything that's said over the intercom (calling team meetings, etc.) is done in Spanish.

I got the Sick Kid Trifecta: Pepto Bismol, Sprite and Saltines and went through the one open checkout.

"How are you tonight?" asked the checker.

"Well, I'm on a Pepto run at 3 am - I've had better nights."

"Debit? Here's your receipt. Enjoy the rest of your night."

She recited her script, oblivious to my meager attempt at humor. Buenos Noches.

Home again, Cameron swallowed and kept down the medicine. He drank some Sprite and fell asleep, a large bowl by his head. I switched the laundry and started another load. Troy had opened a window in the boys' room to air it out and we so moved Aaron back to his bed.

Oliver slept in our bed, leery of being by Cameron again. Can you imagine the horror of his night? First, being awakened like he was, then two baths. Poor puppy. He needs a breath mint.

And definitely another bath.

Who Wants Advil? Oh, Let's Just All Take Some.

What's a day at the orthodontist and dentist if you don't bring along your camera? Not nearly as much fun.

Aaron was the first one with an appointment yesterday. He had his Rapid Palatal Expander installed. We're just going to call it The Crank. As in, "Let's crank your mouth apart every evening at bedtime".

I am soooo looking forward to that.

The Crank is only mildly uncomfortable, however, Aaron's having a hard time talking. He's got a full-blown speech impediment now, and if I'm not looking at him it's hard to understand him. And since he can't put his tongue up to the roof of his mouth, swallowing is difficult. Also, his mouth thinks the Crank is food and is trying to break it down by producing lots and lots of saliva. Saliva that he can't figure out how to swallow.

By the time we get to the dentist so his two cavities can be filled, Aaron's pretty tired of me asking him to repeat himself, he's hungry (but can't eat), and he's got a mouth full of saliva (that he can't swallow). This day is awesome.

How about a nice shot in your gums? That oughta brighten your day. Breathe deep through your nose, baby, breathe deep.

Cameron's in the next room getting the same treatment. He doesn't have any cavities, but he's getting two permanent teeth pulled as the next step in his orthodontic journey.

He took to the nitrous oxide reeeeeeeally well.

The dentist came in and with a few wiggles and a gentle yank (or two), Cameron's mouth and his teeth parted ways. I wish wish wish that I could have been at a good filming angle, but I wasn't. So this will have to suffice:

It's every bit as deep as it looks.

Cam's supposed to keep his tongue away from the clots and he can't drink through a straw until it's all healed. Drinking with a straw could dislodge the blood clots and he'd get something called Dry Socket, which is so horrible and so painful that I've thrown away all the straws in the house. Just in case.

Still a little glazed, lips stretched beyond recognition, needing some Carmex, missing two teeth, mouth tasting like blood...and yet, Mom wants a picture. I thought there would be more coddling.

We can add these to the collection of teeth:

We headed home and Aaron attempted one smile in the elevator. Great. Now his lips and cheeks don't work either.

I bought him a shake and he tried to eat it, but it just kept falling out of his mouth. He would NOT let me take a video of him trying to eat. I had to promise to stop laughing, but darn it if that wasn't the funniest thing I've ever seen.

Dinner was tomato soup, yogurt, and a smoothie - spoon eaten, thank you very much. Nobody feels like chewing tonight.

And Advil. Lots of Advil.

I Dare You to Watch This

I went to my foot doctor on Wednesday to get another sclerosing alcohol injection. I got this one so close to the last one, in the hope that we can eventually shrink the neuroma (swollen nerve) into non-existence. I wasn't having much pain, this was just more of a preventative measure. Also, I've hit my medical deductible, so this injection is lots cheaper than the one he wants to give me in January.

And I captured it on video for you. Now you'll all know just what I've been complaining about. I'm pretty sure the doctor thinks I'm wacko, but that's just the price a blogger pays.

The video is spectacular, it really is, though if needles bother you in the slightest, please sit down before watching.

But definitely watch it. Definitely sit down.

The thing that he's holding up to my foot at the beginning is something to help deaden the nerve. It taps it really hard - feels like a little pinch - and that's supposed to make it hurt less. But it also looks like it breaks the skin a tiny bit. Maybe it's a quick injection of something, I don't know. It gets really good when he brings the needle in.

Are you ready?

Huh? Huh? How was that? Feeling queasy? Take a few deep breaths...it will pass.

It didn't bother me when it was happening, but whew, seeing it play back is something else.

Okay, to be honest, it did hurt tremendously 2 times - but even then, not for longer than a second. The rest of the time, even with all the moving around, angling to get at the nerve, and all the in and out, it didn't hurt, I promise. This doctor is good with the needle.

Afterwards, all three of the middle toes went numb and there wasn't any pain at all. I went out to my car, hoping I wasn't walking funny 'cause I couldn't feel my toes. No pain in the ball of my foot. That's what makes the injections worth it.

Today, the bruise doesn't look too bad, I guess, but the numbness has worn off and the injection site is really tender. I'm limping. That should go away in a few days, and then I'll be really pain-free, as the nerve continues to shrink. Overall, my foot is doing great.

Isn't it pretty?

Movie Quote Monday #9

Good Morning!


Starting off with a quote about vomit and miracles.



"One time, I was at this party... and I was sitting on the couch with Amanda McKinney. She was just sitting there, looking beautiful. So, I lean in to kiss her, and I realize I have gum in my mouth. So, I turn to spit it out and put it in a paper cup. I turn back, and Amanda McKinney throws up all over herself. I knew the moment it happened, it was a miracle. I could have been kissing her when she threw up. It would have scarred me for life. I may never have recovered."


Go.

Oh...and who said it? Don't you think he's pretty darn cute?

One Down,Two To Go

For Cam's 9th birthday (he'll be 11 in January), he got gerbils. A friend had recently gotten some for their kids and Cameron and Aaron had latched on to the idea that gerbils would be fantastic pets to have. My friend's supplier of the gerbils had some babies that were ready to leave their Mom, right in time for Cam's birthday, so we agreed that the gerbils and all the stuff that goes with them would be his present.

When your kid's birthday is 10 days past Christmas, it's easy to imagine that yes, gerbils would make an excellent present. Cam got Petsmart gift cards as other presents, which he promptly redeemed for a cage, wheel, food dish, water bottle, food, and stuff for the bottom of the cage. We went to go see the lady with the procreating gerbils.

With a lot of advice and a guarantee that she could tell the males from the females, we ended up taking home three (!) males. I did not want to be having any gerbil babies! The kids were thrilled. We got home, set things up in Cameron's room, and prepared to enjoy gerbil ownership. The boys named them Cookie, Lollipop, and Licorice.

For me though, it never happened - the enjoying part. I decided fairly quickly that the gerbils, or gerbs as we started calling them, were just one step up from the mice that we occasionally get in the house in the summer. They also turned out to be noisy - endless chewers - and we had to move them out of Cam's room so he could sleep. Now I had a big ol' cage of gerbils in the hallway.

After the initial few weeks of having the gerbils, even the kids pretty much ignored them. They were hard to hold, always wiggling and sometimes biting. Twice, a gerbil wiggled out of one of the boys' hands and the frantic chasing and cornering and finally catching that ensued was enough for me to declare that the gerbs stayed INSIDE the cage at all times.

Cameron would feed and water the gerbils, but only when I would remind him. He'd clean the cage every month or so, taking them out and putting them in a holding bin, while he dumped out the old and put in fresh newspaper. Then the chewing would really start. He took care of their basic needs, but there was no real enjoyment on his part either.

True to the gerbil lady's word, all three were males - we never had any babies, thank goodness. However, one of the gerbs was either confused as to the gender of the other two, or he decided that being straight just wasn't for him. Life inside that cage was like a bad prison movie. We could hear him attacking the other gerbils, their tiny little screams announcing the latest violation. The boys called this gerbil "the mean one", the "one that always climbs on the other's backs".

I kept reminding myself that gerbils usually only live about a year. I've been on the countdown since last January, waiting for them to expire. Last Saturday, one of them did.

We were cleaning up the house for a get-together with some of Troy's family, and I reminded Cameron that (a) he owned gerbils, and (b) he might want to clean out the cage before his cousins came over. He went to work.

Thirty seconds later, he came back into the kitchen, looking a little queasy.

"Mom, one of the gerbils is dead." He pressed his lips together to stop the quivering.

"Oh no, Baby. I'm sorry." I pulled him in for a hug and squeezed him tight. Just because you don't love something, doesn't mean you aren't sad when it dies.

"Better tell Dad." I said, soooooooo glad that it was a weekend and that Troy was home to deal with this. I went to find a box for the funeral.

Troy looked inside the cage and came over to talk to me quietly.

"There's not much to bury. It's pretty far gone. I think the others have been eating on it."

We asked Cameron when he'd last seen all three gerbils alive. Just a day or two. Which gerbil was the dead one? The "mean one".

Okay, that explains a lot. I think the other two finally stood up to him and took him down. Hard. Eating him was the final revenge.

Troy took care of disposing of the corpse. I was all ready to hold an elaborate send-off, but since he was stuck to the bottom of the cage and needed to be scraped off with a spatula, we decided to skip the formalities. Spatula went in the garbage too.

After the boys' tears were dried and Troy had scrubbed the cage, Cameron put some fresh newspapers, food and water inside for the remaining two gerbils. Total time of grief...maybe 5 minutes. We haven't even talked about it again. The "mean one" is not missed.

The two remaining gerbils continue to live peacefully, chewing and running about their cage, no worries to weigh them down. They took care of business. Don't mess with these gerbils.

I walk by their cage dozens of times a day. If I ever glance down and see them, all I can think is...cannibals.

A Little Manscaping

For the past few years, our family has been going to see Michelle for all our haircutting needs. She also does my coloring. She is fabulous, fun to talk to, and does an awesome job. I'm so glad we found her. The other day, I tagged along with Troy when he went over for a haircut.

This is how it went down:

Why did you bring the camera?

Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

Once Michelle took care of that hair...

We needed to address these.
Hello Eyebrows.

First, the area is cleaned with alcohol.

Smear on the wax.

Press the paper strip down.
1...2...

3.

Just a little, out of the middle.

The left eye is next.

Is this cool or what?

Now the right eyebrow.

Did you know that the right eyebrow always has more hair?

It's true.

And a tiny bit off the top.

There. Doesn't that look better?

There may be a little redness for a while.

Michelle said that she loves waxing eyebrows.

And I love watching it.

By the next day, he's all better. And he looks soooo good.
Makes me wanna get this close.

Sinkers

My sister Kelly and her family came down to visit and as a last hurrah, we wanted to get our kids together to go swimming at the local rec center. We get there, get all lotioned up and spend a good amount of time outside before the kids decide to try out the indoor pool. We (two adults, 5 kids) were hanging out in a corner of that warm pool, when all of a sudden, all the life guards jumped down from their perches and blew their whistles mightily.

"Everybody out!"

I told the kids that it must be time for the chlorine check (do they even do that anymore?) and we all headed across the pool, towards the stairs so we could get out. We find our towels and start drying off and we notice about five of the lifeguards peering into the area of water that we just walked through to get to the stairs. I see one guy holding his hands in the shape of, well, a log. You heard me, a log. Then he points back into the water, assuring the others that this was indeed the very spot he had spied the offending pile.

We stretched our necks and tried to look, and sure enough, there it was, only no longer in log form. Now we have broken up chunks drifting about on the bottom of the pool. My sister, the nursing student, who is knowledgeable and calm about all things medical and bodily, just nods her heads and proclaims,

"Oh, yeah, it's pieces of feces."

I burst out laughing at the rhyme, but inside I was so grossed out, realizing that our towels had been drying poo water off of our bodies.

"Are we going home now?", the kids wanted to know.

"No, we're going back outside to have a dip in the chlorine bath, I mean the pool. Swirl around alot, honey."

N. A. S. T. Y.

Don'tcha just love swimming pools?