Detours

I don't talk a whole lot about my faith journey. It's big, it's central to my life, and I'm really excited about it. I'm bringing friends to church. I bought a Bible. I will talk about it with people who will listen. But tonight, I had a big moment with it that I want to remember.

You see, I'm really walking this road of faith. I'm putting one foot in front of the other. I'm doing it.

Except for when I hit the detours.

And when my kids are sick, those detours are filled with road blocks.

Tonight, L has been coughing. And coughing and coughing and coughing and coughing and coughing. Coughing triggers something PTSD-esque in this mama bear. I remember the days, pre-allergy diagnosis, when we rushed L to the ER when he couldn't stop coughing. When he couldn't breathe and therefore, neither could I. Now, when he coughs, and I can't help him, I become weak. I become weak emotionally. Mentally. And spiritually.

After L had been coughing, almost literally nonstop, for several consecutive hours, and his strong little spirit was starting to break, he started to whimper in his sleep. The whimpers turned into tears, and I joined him, feeling my own cheeks become wet.

I fell to my knees and I said, "Why did God make him like this? Why didn't he give him a decent immune system? Why does He think I can handle it? Brian, I can't. Why doesn't He know that?"

Look. I know what you are thinking. My kid doesn't have cancer. He is typically developing. In the grand scheme of things, some might say I'm overreacting.

But I know what it's like to have a weak immune system. To get sick all the damn time. To not be able to breathe, and to not be able to stop coughing for one stinkin' minute. I know how it hurts so badly. And just like a gazillion other things that L has inherited from me, this is just another thing that makes him so much like me. But unlike his love of chattering with strangers or singing show tunes in the car, this thing sucks. Plain and simple.

And as I knelt in front of the couch, my hand on my little boy's face, crying, B reminded me that L will be all right. That he's strong. That he's smart. That he's athletic.

B walked away to get L a drink and I sat down on the couch next to him, taking his little hand in mine. I looked at him, and I promised him that he was going to feel better soon. Between wheezing coughs, he said "okay," and "I know, Mommy."

I asked him if he wanted to say a prayer.

"You say the words, Mommy," he whispered.

I stammered through a prayer, still gripping his hands. With tears falling down his cheeks, he looked in my own tear-filled eyes and listened as I prayed that God would make him better. That we knew it wasn't going to happen right this second, but that He'd heal my L. That in the meantime, He'd come in close. That He'd be here with us as we waited for God to make him better. We thanked God for everything He'd given us and told him we loved Him.

Oh, this road. It's rocky. It's messy. It's full of detours and road blocks and ditches.

But as L perked up a bit, ate a snack and requested to watch Iron Man, I dusted myself off and retied my shoes.

And I started back on the journey.

Namaste.

An Open Letter to L's Sinuses

Dear Allergies/Sinuses/Whatever is causing my child to be absolutely miserable,

First things first, I. Hate. You. I hate you. With a passion. Why you insist on making my sweet L so sick is beyond me.

Do you know what it does to a momma heart to have to hold down her little boy to clean out the inside of his bleeding nose while he screams and fat hot tears roll down his cheeks?

It hurts me almost as much as it hurts him.

Do you know what it does to a momma heart to walk into school with her little man and have everyone who sees his red, swollen eyes gasp, "awww," or give him sad puppy dog eyes?

It brings me guilt and sadness. To the nth power. And forces me to leave school to bring him allergy medicine, praying it will bring him even a little relief.

Do you know what it does to a momma heart to call her son's school and hear his little hoarse voice on the phone saying, "I don't feel good, but I'll be okay, you can take care of me when you pick me up after school?" DO YOU?

It breaks it. In a million shattered pieces.

Well, look, Mr. Allergens/Sinuses/Whoever you are, I have called the nurses line and I am giving you a heads-up that I am coming at you with big guns tonight. I have a whole host of things with which I am going to battle you. I have plans for the congestion, the bleeding nose, the excessive drainage, and even that hoarse little voice that just isn't so cute anymore. So beware, because this mama bear's claws are out.

And by the way, I hate you.

Sincerely,
A Frustrated, Sad, Guilt-Ridden, Worried Mama.

P.S. I hate you.

The one where I was sure I was having a stroke. For real.

I haven't blogged about it yet, but I've been exploring the world of chiropractic care for myself and my boys. It's no secret that I'm a bit granola and prefer natural methods over western medicine. I'd taken L to a chiropractor when he was a baby, and I'm no stranger to getting adjusted, myself, so when my friend Katie talked about taking her little girl to the chiropractor for ear issues, she inspired me to try it again for G.

Poor G has been very congested. I'm almost positive he has a milk allergy like his big brother, which I was secretly relieved to learn. I'm not a big fan of dairy and to be honest, it's much easier to have them both on the same milk. Once I removed dairy from our diets (mine too...I'm still breastfeeding him), an ear infection and some eczema on the crook of his arm FINALLY went away.

Then he developed a cough and congestion that was eerily similar to L's, pre-allergy diagnosis. So I decided to try to remove gluten from our diets too (if I find the time, this will be the Food Allergy Friday topic this week). It takes several weeks to get gluten completely out of your system, so although I noted that he had started to improve a bit, I figured I'd attempt chiropractic adjustments for us in the meantime.

It was a bit disconcerting, watching the chiropractor twist my babies' necks, but I saw a difference. In fact, G's nose started running minutes after his first adjustment. I was absolutely thrilled. It wasn't cheap, but I scrimped in other places so that we could go. It was working. My headaches were gone. G's cough was improving.

And then I went again last week. She cracked the heck out of my spine and then adjusted my neck. It felt amazing. I ran a few errands with the boys afterwards, then came home, flopped down on our couch, and immediately felt like I was going to faint. It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest and someone was squeezing my head. Hard. I knew I was hungry and hot, so I ate something and drank some water, but the feeling lasted for a good 20-30 minutes.

I asked on Twitter if any of my friends had felt this way post-adjustment, and several of them had. I started to feel better, even though one of my besties told me no more neck adjustments because they can cause strokes in young women. I did what I knew I shouldn't do...I consulted Dr. Google.

Dun dun dunnnnnnn.

And Dr. Google insisted that if I felt faint after an adjustment, I was indeed having a stroke. The rapid heartbeat? The pouring of cold sweat? The shakiness, dizziness, faintness? Not good, folks. Not good at all.

I very slowly closed my laptop and backed up. I called my doctor's exchange, and when my doctor called me back and assured me that I was fine, I tried to believe him. I forced myself to eat dinner. I made lunches for the next day and cleaned up the kitchen.

As I walked out of the kitchen and sat back down on the couch due to continued weakness, MY RIGHT SIDE STARTED TINGLING. I shit you not. I. Freaked. Out.

Sure I was having a stroke, I walked back to our bedroom, where B and L had begun their bedtime routine. I told him that I needed to go to the hospital and we agreed that I'd drive myself.

You know, because if you are having a stroke, you should drive yourself to the ER. (Dude...my babies were just about in bed. But seriously, what the hell was I thinking?)

I arrived at the ER and told the receptionist my symptoms. Not only did they not blow me off, as I'd hoped, they rushed me through triage. I was bawling. My heart rate was through the roof. My blood pressure was high. The kind triage nurse hugged me and told me I'd be okay. They admitted me to a room and I cried and cried, sure I'd never see my babies again.

When the tech came in and told me that my copay was $200, I almost did have a stroke right there.

Another sweet nurse came in, did some preliminary tests, and told me she didn't think I had had a stroke but that it was right that I came in. A doctor came in a few minutes later and said the same thing. I was sure they'd send me home, but she said, "Gina, look, my head says you aren't having a stroke. But the thing is, you were right to come in. Those symptoms after an adjustment are scary, and if I were you, I'd want to get checked out too. If I don't run some tests, you are going to worry for a week, and frankly, I'll worry about you. I am going to find out what tests are available at this time of night."

Um. What? Really???

Oddly enough, though, I was able to calm down. I knew that at least I'd get some definitive answers. (It also helped that I knew I wasn't completely crazy for getting checked out.)

I overcame my fear of IV's as a nurse came in to start one. I breathed. I prayed. I breathed some more. I dozed off while watching late-night television. I teared up, reading supportive tweets from my girls.

A little while later, a sweet grandfatherly man came in with a wheelchair. He told me he was taking me for a CT scan. As he wheeled me down the hallway, he told me exactly what to expect. He explained that they'd take over 1000 pictures. That the worst part was that, as they ran contrast dye through my system, I'd feel like I was having a giant hot flash. And then I'd feel like I was peeing on myself.

Um, okay? I started shaking uncontrollably. Being there alone was not a smart decision, but this man was so calming and sweet that it was the next best thing to having a loved one there to hold my hand. He took his time and waited until I was ready. He told me about his family and asked about mine. I'm so grateful that God put him there that night because I certainly needed him.

I laid on the table, with extra blankets (which did nothing for my trembling), and started praying. Sure enough, just as the tech had described, I felt extreme pressure and heat starting in my chest and going to my neck. And although I didn't quite feel as though I'd wet my pants, I felt an odd sensation immediately afterwards.

If it wasn't so scary, it would have been fascinating.

By the time he came back in, probably ten seconds after the worst part had started, the feeling had started diminishing. It was awful, but I had survived and lived to blog about it.

He told me that I did great and that I'd have the results in 45 minutes. Ten minutes later, the doctor came in to tell me that I was fine. She smiled and said that she told a resident that it was an odd choice to scan me, but that we were so similar. We had kids of the same age, we had similar personalities (or so it seemed), we were even almost identical ages. She'd want to be treated the way she treated me.

As I walked out, the triage nurse met me at the door and hugged me again in celebration of my good news.

Yes, I do realize how blessed I was to have this experience. In countless ways, it could have gone horribly wrong.

Granted, my mother-in-law came over the next day and told me that sometimes CT scans miss strokes completely and that I probably needed an MRI to be sure.

Womp womp womp.

But in all seriousness, I'm grateful. Thank God for the receptionist, the triage nurse, the doctor, and that sweet tech. Thank God for modern medicine. Thank God for my blog friends. Thank God that things weren't even a teeny bit different.

Namaste.

Sickie Sunday

Within 24 hours of my last post, G started saying "mama."

Consistently!!

He's been rewarded with lots of kisses and clapping. I guess jinxing myself by blogging about something can have positive effects too.

So today, I'm going to tell you how sick we are. We have an evil virus that has affected us all in different ways. L's has upset his stomach (what else would you expect from The Child with the Most Sensitive Stomach on Earth?) , G has a cough that sounds like he smokes a pack of Marlboros every day, and my sinuses are so messed up that I'm dizzy as heck and walking around with tissues stuck up my nose. It's sexy. Not gonna lie.

(My brain has been in such a fog that I totally forgot about Food Allergy Friday last week. I'll be back this Friday, to talk about dinners, including going out to eat, unless someone has another request. Feel free to email or comment with one.)

It's made for a few godawful nights. Our bedroom is a revolving door of whining children and fever reducers and a dry-erase board with who got which medicine at what time.


Unfortunately, the boys' first day back to school was supposed to be tomorrow. Although our meetings don't start until Thursday, and school doesn't begin until Monday, I have to get back in and get my classroom set up. Seeing it shiny and organized for the 24 hours (or less) that it stays that way makes me happy.

But with G hacking and L taking one bite of everything he asks for, just to deem it "yucky," and that whole tissue-in-my-left-nostril look, I guess we won't be able to go back to school tomorrow.

Hear that internet? I guess we won't be able to go back to school tomorrow. I guess we're just going to stay sick. I guess my utterly fantastic summer vacation will have to be extended a day.

Namaste, and stay tuned....

Crazy late nights just aren't quite the same these days.

Last night, I gave L two of his new vitamins that I picked up yesterday. After he ate them, I panicked, realizing that the bottle boasted that they were made from whole foods, and I hoped there were no tomatoes in them. Sure enough, tomato juice was ingredient number 16 out of 31. L and I both freaked out for a second and then we decided that there surely couldn't be that much tomato juice in two tiny Flintstone-sized vitamins with that many ingredients.

Regardless, I bundled him up in our bed, since a) my cousin was in town from Texas and bunking in his room and I didn't want to subject her to possible midnight vomit fun, and b) I wanted to keep a close eye on him.

Realistically, I knew that there was a possibility that it could be a long night.

My suspicions were right; only with the wrong kid.

At 11:30, G woke up, absolutely blazing. I had the motrin at my bedside as he had been running a low-grade fever earlier, that I had attributed to his newly popped-through tooth. I immediately dosed him and held him. Twenty minutes later, the poor kid was still really, really hot.

I took him into his room to change him and take his temp. You can imagine the acceleration of my heart when the thermometer read 105.0. ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE DEGREES. Twenty minutes after motrin. I can't imagine what it was before the medication. One hundred and five freaking degrees.

I've called the exchange for L before and have been told that 105 is the point when you head for the trusty ER. I saw the light on in L's room and went in to explain the situation to my cousin. She offered to ride with me so B could sleep, and we both accepted gratefully.

She took his temperature one more time, just to make sure that I wasn't losing it. Sure enough, we were still right at 105. Somehow, I managed not to even shed a tear. He was acting like his normal happy self, even playing the "so big" game and smiling for me, albeit after lots of effort on my part.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the ER of the hospital where he was born. Of course, by then, his temp had gone down to 100.6, and he was diagnosed with minimal ear infections and a bit of an irritated throat.

In and out in thirty-five minutes, we discussed the ease of that visit and came home and went to bed.

G nursed a little, falling fast asleep. Relieved, I followed his lead.

About an hour later, he woke up, moaning. He was burning up again. I took his temperature and he was back to 104.8. I followed the instructions of the ER nurse and gave him a dose of acetaminophen and laid him on my chest, which apparently prompted him to projectile vomit all over me. I got ourselves cleaned up, laid him down again, with the same results.

After a lukewarm bath, he was down to 103, but I called the exchange for guidance. A sweet nurse returned my call and instructed me to re-dose the acetaminophen and if he couldn't keep it down, to send the hubby to the drugstore for acetaminophen suppositories.

I sat on the couch, holding my dozing baby upright, suspecting that his nausea was from a lack of equilibrium exacerbated by his horizontal position. I tried desperately to get him to take the Tylenol, but my little man persevered in refusing it. I realized that I could give him more motrin in an hour, so I sat up, praying, tweeting, and crying from worries/touching tweets from my friends.

Apparently, the upright position did the trick, because I woke up two hours later with a significantly cooler baby in my arms. We moved to my bed and grabbed another hour of sleep. G woke up back to his fever-free, babbling self this morning.

My mama instinct wonders if a tell-tale rash will pop up soon, as I'm not convinced that a minimal ear infection was the sole cause for his scary fever. He has had a fever that has come and gone all day, but luckily, not higher than 102-ish.

The last time I felt this sluggish and miserable was after a late night of obsessing over hot boys in college. I guess some things never change.

Desperately seeking stomach solution...(updated)

I am at my wit's end.

If you follow me on Twitter and have read my incessant 140 (and often 280) character rants about my son's stomach issues and you will puke if you read one more thing about vomit, then move on. I don't blame you. I wish I didn't have to read my own words. Trust me.

But I figure I have a few hundred readers and someone out there has to know something...anything...about what I am dealing with.

Background: L is four and a half. A year ago, we found out that he is allergic to wheat, milk, turkey, and tomatoes. Since we have eliminated these things from his diet, he has overall, been much healthier. He no longer needs daily breathing treatments or allergy medications. He still picks up whatever goes around his day care room, but from what I can tell, it's not much more often than all of the other kids.

When L was an infant, he had severe acid reflux. He would stop breathing fairly often, because sometimes, he wouldn't spit up...the acid would stop at his throat and essentially choke him.

Approximately every two weeks, L has severe digestive issues. He vomits, retching and retching until there is nothing left in his stomach. It's usually just one time, but the amount of vomit is astounding. I know that's gross, but it's important to know. Sometimes, like this morning, he has a loose bowel movement afterwards.

We've had this problem for a few months. It seems as though the incidences are getting a bit closer together.

I have been trying to figure out a pattern to no avail. The first few times, it was late afternoon, several hours after eating lunch. This morning, though, it was about 8:45 am. He refused breakfast but drank a small amount of coconut milk. He complained of stomach pain a few times afterwards and had one or two bouts of nausea, but no more vomiting or bowel movements. He keeps down Sprite, applesauce, crackers, etc. and says he's hungry. If he does complain of a stomach ache, it lasts a couple of hours, and then he's back to normal. And by normal, I mean keeping a wild chimpanzee calm on my couch would be easier.

**Update: He had another loose BM, 7 hours after the first one. He still seems perfectly fine besides that. I'm calling a gastroenterologist tomorrow. Sigh.

I thought it was just reflux, but can loose bowel movements be associated with that? Could he have an ulcer?

I talked to our pediatrician the other day about this. He is extremely laid-back and didn't seem overly concerned.

L does take probiotics (mostly) consistently, and takes multivitamins, Vitamin C, and calcium, if he hasn't had enough in his milk each day. He eats very healthily, with almost all "real food." While he gets a gluten-free, casein-free cookie or ice cream as a special treat, he mostly eats preservative-free food. We do all of our grocery shopping at Trader Joe's and Whole Foods.

So bottom line...every two weeks he vomits violently one time. Sometimes that is followed by one loose bowel movement. Sometimes immediately afterwards, but at most a few hours afterwards, he's hungry and energetic.

If you can solve my puketastic mystery I will be your best friend forever.

Thankful Thursday: The Blessings in Disguise edition

It's funny how rough days can turn into gratitude-filled days when given a little help.

Today, I am grateful that L's stomach issues are just that. Last night, he vomited pretty violently out of the blue, and after consulting Dr. Google, I am fairly confident that he never really outgrew his reflux. I started feeling sorry for the both of us when I began suspecting that we are going to have to limit his diet even further. Later, I got a sweet e-mail from a friend, saying exactly what I needed to hear. Of the billions of things that could be wrong with my kid, this is fairly minor, all things considered.

I'm also grateful for friends who talk me down from the ledge when I attempt to diagnose my L with worst-case scenario illnesses before settling on reflux. Believe it or not, I have women who I can email about details of L's puke, and who will listen patiently and respond with advice based on their own kids' experiences.

I am thankful for The World's Best Husband, who, upon receiving my text that Logan had tossed his (gluten-free) cookies all over his bed, responded by telling me to throw the sheet and blankets in the tub and he'd deal with them when he got home, because he has practice. Nuff said, right, ladies?

On a somewhat-related note, I am super grateful for the allergy-friendly superstore that is W h o l e F o o d s. L and I made such a scene in there yesterday, jumping up and down and celebrating gluten-free, casein-free finds, including Curious George cookies, ice cream cones, and pizza crust (L) and soy-free butter, yogurt, and organic grapes (me). We both had perma-smiles for the hour and a half we were there; even the $140 total (when we originally went for just pizza crust and cheese) couldn't wipe it off our faces.

I am thankful that G is at such a fun age so I can enjoy him so much this summer. His mischievous side is really starting to show, and watching him and L play and giggle together makes me smile daily. He's a fantastic eater, plays so well with L or alone, and is a trooper on our daily outings. That totally makes up for the fact that he still only says "Dada" and "Nana."

I am thankful for said daily outings. So far, we've done something fun every day, from seeing free ventriloquist shows at the library, to playdates with friends, to trips to grandparents' houses. The speed of these summer days is mind-blowing, but to say we are enjoying it to the fullest is an understatement.

I am grateful that I finally got pulled into the genius that I originally thought would be just another time-suck: Pinterest.I've found ideas for parties, for crafts for L and I to complete, and even Father's Day gifts (which reminds me, I am oh-so-grateful that another blog-turned-IRL friend has agreed to help me create).

I am thankful that I've rediscovered my love of yoga. I can practice far more regularly thanks to my summer schedule. Rocking out warriors, wheels, and tree poses both strengthen and center me, and I wonder how I got away from it for a while. I found another perfect-for-me teacher this week, and as a matter of fact, I'm off to find my zen this morning. Namaste.

On allergies

On a daily basis, I get asked a lot of questions about L's allergies. 

How I knew he had them. What his symptoms were like. If he will outgrow them. What happens when he has an attack. If I carry an epi-pen. How he deals with them. How I deal with them. If the food is more expensive.

In short the answers are: I had a God-whispering/momma instinct moment.  He vomited daily, had bumps around his mouth, had asthma attacks, was super itchy, and sometimes, diarrhea.  I don't know, and I have mixed feelings on if I want him to grow out of them.  It depends on which food and how much he eats. No. Better than me. Better than I used to. Yes and no. 

Leave a comment if you want a post or an e-mail going into detail on any of these.

I haven't posted about his allergies in a while, and I know I have some new readers so I figured I'd give you an update. L's allergic to wheat, milk, turkey, and tomatoes. He can tell you that himself, although sometimes he says "potatoes" instead of tomatoes. Also, he'll try to tell me he's allergic to vegetables so that he can get out of eating them. He also tells me that I am allergic to yummy things that he is eating so I don't ask for a bite. 

We've had only one instance of him taking a bite of something that he knew he wasn't supposed to. He can tell you what happens to him when he eats the food. Honestly? It amazes me that he's wise enough to handle the allergies the way he has. We've gotten to the point that we can eat ice cream or chocolate in front of him. (I always, always make sure he has his own special treat.)

We go back in June to get retested. I'll get tested then too. I told him this the other day. When I said we'd have to do the "caterpillars" (needles in his back) again, he gave me a look like "The hell we will." But when I explained that maybe they'd say he's no longer allergic to one of the four things, he brightened, and said, "Dat would be great!" Then when I explained that they might say he is still allergic to them, he shrugged and said, "Dat would be okay. We can still get my special treats." 

Like I said. Wise beyond his years. 

The other night, we had a issue. One of his grandparents assumed that he could have popcorn (he can, as long as it's butter-free) and gave him some microwave popcorn. When I picked him up, I read the ingredients and didn't think much of it, since he had only eaten one small bowl and the butter was less than 2% of the ingredients. 

Over 24 hours later, my poor little L had severe cramping and diarrhea all night long. The next day, he was starving. No fever, and tons of energy. B mentioned that his bottom was very red and sore the night before (that used to be the itchiest part on him---makes sense if you think about it) and I figured it couldn't hurt to call and ask the allergist. 

Sure enough, corn can take over 24 hours to digest, and milk allergies can have "delayed reactions." 

When my mom called to check on L, he said, exasperatedly, "I was poopin' all night because of dat popcorn!" I laughed out loud. 

If you know a kiddo with food allergies, don't assume they can eat ANYTHING. Even if their mom says they can have potato chips, it might not be every brand (for L, plain Lays are a-ok, Pringles-not so much.) I think it's safe to say that a mom would prefer you call before you give anything at all that she hasn't provided. And have the container ready so you can read the ingredients. For instance, you'd be shocked at what has gluten (some popsicles, hamburger patties, broths). Also? Be careful about cross-contamination (if peanut butter has been used on bread, L can't eat it. He has his own jar at our house).

If your child has weird medical things going on that you can't explain, go get them tested for food allergies. It's so good to know. G will get tested at 18 months regardless of symptoms. L had pulmonary and digestive issues, among others. We went to four doctors before my mama instinct told me to get another allergy test done. Speaking of that, get the skin "scratch" test done. Blood tests are very inaccurate at diagnosing food allergies. L's first allergy blood test came back saying he was allergic to....drumroll please...nothing. 

L's allergies have been life-changing for us, and not just in negative ways. We all eat so much healthier now. I've learned so much about food in general. I'm learning to cook, which is a miracle in and of itself. Last night, I made coconut fried chicken ala Laura, and when B asked L if he could try it, L answered, "No. I'm afraid you might wike it." The coconut vanilla pudding I gave him for dessert was 'da most dewicious pudding ever' according to sweet L. I couldn't help but agree.

Am I afraid that G might have food allergies too? Not a bit. In fact, in some ways, it'd be easier. When I found out about L's allergies last summer, I literally went through a grieving process. Now? I'm grateful for them. I still can't believe I'm typing that out loud.

It's SNOT tea

I was sick with a nasty flu-esque bug for what seems like years, but has been a couple of weeks. Although I got progressively better last week, it morphed into a sinus infection and my Neti Pot was simply not touching it.

Last night, I was miserable. Feverish, and my entire head, face and all, hurt. Badly.

I was upset because I thought I'd have to give in and get antibiotics. I hate taking antibiotics, because they can weaken your immune system, which, if you know me, you know is not good. Mama's immune system needs all the help it can get.

So when my never-fails-me Neti Pot, well, failed me, I turned to the one thing that never lets me down.

Dr. Google, of course.

I typed in, "natural remedies for sinus infection," and bam! Up popped this tea that everyone was raving about. It called for water, 1 tablespoon of honey, and 2 tablespoons of apple cider vinegar.

I tweeted one of my blog-friends who is my go-to girl for natural remedies, and she sang the praises of this tea. She explained that vinegar is a natural germ-killer. Dr. Google AND a blog-friend recommended it? What else did I need? I was officially sold.

B was sick of hearing me moan and groan loves me enough to go to the store for me at 9:30 at night, and headed out for the ingredients.

(Yes, I am a grown woman and didn't have honey or vinegar in my house. I know, I know.)

He made the tea for me and after a few sips, my sinuses were opening up. I could actually breathe through both nostrils for the first time in over a week. Today, there were still signs of a sinus infection, but I still feel significantly better than I have. I just downed another cupful of the tea, and I can almost feel the vinegar battling the germs.

In case you are wondering, I love me some vinegar, and one mug was still all I could ever stomach at once. But seriously. It works.

So if you are struggling with a sinus infection, try it. Just don't think about a Cobb salad while you are drinking it, because it feels dangerously close to taking shots of vinaigrette. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Is it too late for a New Year's Resolution?

I talk a good game.

I make G's food from organic fruits and vegetables (although I admittedly have given him store-bought food a couple of times at school when I ran out. So sue me...it's free there!).

I can't remember the last time I had a cheeseburger and fries. Or ice cream. (But oh, how I crave it.)

We don't drink any cow's milk since we found out about L's milk allergy. We use hemp milk and I am actively searching for coconut milk. L doesn't get any dairy, and B and I eat it sparingly. I haven't decided what I'll do about milk when G turns one.

I've removed soy from our diet...as much as possible, anyway.

I put my boys on a delayed vaccination schedule and don't vaccinate when they are sick. (I won't stop vaccinating them, however. I don't believe that autism and vaccines are related, which is another post for another day. Maybe.)

I clean with all-natural products from this website.

And then, yesterday, I read this post that made me realize that there is so much more I need to do.

I have got to stop buying crap for L, specifically hot dogs (even though I buy nitrate-free franks), fruit snacks, and candy. Don't get me wrong...I'll still give him the gluten-free cookies as a treat, but I know he eats way too much sugar.

When I read that sugar decreases your immune system, it was a wake-up call. If you've been reading my blog for any amount of time, you know that my kids are always sick. Always. This year, I've accepted it a little more, since everyone I know in our area has had sick kids all.winter.long. But if removing sugar can make us healthier, I'm all for it.

I ordered a dozen glass jars tonight, and will be tossing out my plastic-ware and storing my leftovers and bulk items in them when they arrive.

I'm going to start cooking things in the toaster oven instead of the microwave when possible.

I'm dusting off my air popcorn popper that has been sitting in my pantry for years, since I've been too lazy to ditch the microwaveable kind.

I just finished cleaning out my pantry and threw away a huge bag of junk.

But.

I didn't throw away the three (three!!) boxes of fruit snacks in there. That new case of Caffeine-Free Dr. Pepper we bought this weekend? I'm going to finish it. Also, I'm not making any promises about the dark chocolate covered raisins that we buy on a weekly basis. Oh, and the aspartame-laced Mint Chocolate Chip gum to which I am literally addicted...I'd love to say I'm throwing it away. But I won't. And you're going to have to pry my unopened jar of Nut*ella from my cold, dead hands if you think it's going anywhere.

As I type this though, my sweet L just sneezed out a huge snot rocket. Plus, I have a feverish baby in my arms, nursing.

So even though I am going to be seen as a mean mommy who won't buy fruit snacks anymore, I'm digging in my heels.

And I promise, albeit reluctantly, that if L can give up some of his sugary snacks, I won't buy any more soda. Or *wincing*, Nut*ella.

You're gonna have to give me some time on the gum, though.

a lesson in perspective

I started the last day of 2010 feeling a little sorry for myself. I woke up beyond exhausted after a night of listening to my little man cough and cough and cough.

And for once, it wasn't L. Poor G-man had been hacking all night long.

I called the pediatrician, bundled us all up, and headed in. As soon as the doctor heard G cough, he looked concerned. This man is ridiculously laid-back, so the look on his face panicked me. He asked how long G had been coughing like that and when I told him two weeks (before you call DFS, this was his third trip to the doctor in that time), he immediately sent us to the lab for a chest xray.

As I sat waiting in the gross urgent care room for the xray, I got teary. Why are my kids always sick? Why do my kids have to be the ones with allergies and asthma that apparently cannot be controlled?

And then a mom came in, carrying her little boy whose cough silenced the entire room. This little guy had a scary cough. He couldn't catch his breath. His mom told me that they'd been doing breathing treatments every. ten. minutes. the entire night.

It was then that I thanked God for the lesson in perspective as well as for the health of my kids.

So I have two little boys who aren't exactly the picture of health. Asthma sucks the big one. Food allergies are a pain in the arse. But to say it could be worse is quite the understatement. G's tests all came back negative. L's asthma has only landed him in the ER on one occasion. We've got this food allergy thing down...in fact, we are eating healthier than we ever have.

So I don't get to stay home with my boys, even part-time as I'd hoped. It's just not in the cards for us, financially. But I got to stay home with G at least part-time until he was four months old. G stays with my mom and a friend of ours, and L goes to a school that's so good I'd want him to go even if I did stay home. Plus, I love my job. A lot. And how many people can say that, and mean it?

So G went from rocking out 8-hour nights every!single!night! to only making it 3-4 hours before waking up to eat...or worse, just party. Even though I am going back to work full-time on Monday, I don't need sleep

sleep deprivation is getting easier

I am very tolerant of the lack of sleep knowing it's temporary

....New Year's Resolution #1: Find a way to survive on less sleep.

Happy 2011!

Merry frickin' Christmas.

On L's first Christmas, he was about 9 months old. He was sick with a terrible stomach virus that lasted through New Year's Eve. We were so sad for him, but we knew that he wouldn't even remember missing all the festivities of his first Christmas, and there was always next year.

And then he was sick in 2008, at 1 year and 9 months old. Again, we were sad for him, but we knew he really didn't get Christmas that year, and there was always next year.

Last year, we made it to the Christmas celebrations, but he was still fighting a cold. We all were. So we were upset that we still couldn't enjoy Christmas to the fullest, but of course, we said there was always next year.

This year, I've been obsessively worrying...even more so than usual. It seems like everyone we know has had strep and/or a stomach virus and I've been beyond psychotic with the hand sanitizer and trying to avoid germs. We made it to the Christmas service at my church on my birthday. I started to get my hopes up. Yesterday, L was visiting the bathroom more often than usual, and every time he went, I'd break out into a sweat, fearing the worst. But he seemed fine. I said a few extra prayers, hoping against hope that this year he'd finally be healthy.

G, however, has caught the cold that L had last week. Poor guy has a bad cough, but the doctor checked him out on Monday, and his ears and lungs sounded fine. Every day I frantically feel his head 2036809 times, worrying that the little cold was going to turn into something worse, ruining Christmas again.

We made it to my brother's house tonight for our Christmas Eve celebration and I finally started to breathe a little easier.

Just as I started to really relax, L threw up all over their kitchen floor.

My mom kept saying that something just got caught in his throat and gagged him, but I knew.

I wanted to leave before exposing everyone, including my pregnant sister-in-law, to this year's Christmas bug, but everyone insisted that we stay. L wanted to go home, so we decided to open our gifts quickly. L's scooter, Batmobile, and Harry Potter legos perked him up, so against my instinct, I reluctantly agreed to stay for dinner.

I glanced at L, riding his scooter around my brother's house, and noticed that he looked pale. He sighed and peered up at me with dark-ringed eyes. I got up from the table to feel his head...sure enough, burning up.

We packed up our things and headed home.

And as I type this, poor L has a 102 degree fever, diarrhea, and a headache.

There's always next year.

It's beginning to feel a lot like winter....

because we are sick.

The whole family.

It started with scratchy throats. L's started last weekend. Mine started on Thanksgiving night. And B's started last night. Even poor baby G had a little cough.

This last weekend was no fun.

L didn't eat all.day.long on Saturday.

I had some weird vertigo going on Saturday night to the point that I was vomiting at 4 am.

We took it easy yesterday, hoping that we'd be all geared up to return to our respective schools this morning.

And then we woke up to severe diarrhea from L. Poor guy is (very reluctantly) wearing a diaper it's so bad.

I am, ahem, experiencing similar symptoms now.

So if I am scarce around these parts again for a while, it's probably because I am, quite literally, up to my elbows in poo. Here's hoping it's not puke too. There's only so much a mama can take.

As always, when I'm going to say "peace out" for a while, I'll give you something fun to check out. Today, it's my girl Katie's giveaway at Megan's blog.

Are we the only family who never gets sick when the weather's nice, but is almost never well in the fall and winter?

Spring, please hurry....

The Power of Prayer Part II

I'm not feeling so hot today.

I should be...it's our 5 year anniversary, my hubby brought me a gorgeous bouquet of flowers, and G gave us a fabulous anniversary gift of....

drumroll please....

sleeping 6 straight hours last night!

But apparently, L thought that the perfect anniversary gift for Mommy and Daddy was his virus.

So I'm sitting here feeling like there are bumblebees in my nose and razorblades in my throat and I am not up to blogging today. I want to blog about B, seeing that it's our anniversary and all, but I want to wait until my brain is working in order to give him the post he deserves.

So.

I want you all to go visit my friend Elizabeth's blog today. She is telling the story of my post yesterday, but from her point of view.

Namaste.

Random Tidbit Tuesday

I am messy. Disorganized. Very ADD.

So when nesting really kicked in for me when I was pregnant with L, it didn't surprise me. Maybe I got induced too early. Or maybe I'm just not the nesting type.

Again, I haven't felt any nesting urges. But I am super anxious about the nursery. I hadn't been, until my mom and I (well, honestly 80% my mom, 20% me) completed THIS on Sunday:



I don't know which creature is my favorite, but I am really partial to that baby owl. Regardless, I am dying to get the rest of it put together now.

The pictures I drew are framed and ready to go.

The mobile we are making (I wanted a really earthy one, and the plastic/fabric ones just didn't go with our theme) just needs to be assembled.

The letters of the little man's name have been painted and thanks to Katie, we have a really cool way to display them. I just have to get the item we need from my mom, who claims to have several in her basement.

The crib skirt has arrived. My stepmother-in-law and I are going out tomorrow to buy the sheets and bumper for the crib.

The crib is in the nursery, now that L's big boy bed and superhero bedding have arrived. (Let me tell you, giving a 3.5 year old a bed with his favorite superheroes on it made me Mommy of the Year in his eyes. When his room is complete, I'll post pictures of that too.)

The crib is missing a screw. (Long boring story.)

So I am in hurry-up-and-wait mode. Normally, this is my favorite mode. But right now, it's killing me. Maybe this is nesting for the girl with ADD?

-------------------

Tidbit 2:

Go check out Brittany's giveaway! (Try not to get addicted to her blog while you are there. I dare ya.)I would LOVE to win it so I could get my boys' initials on it, which are....

Hee hee. Not telling yet.

Lots of you have asked what the new little man's name will be but I'm not giving it up till he's born. I know, I hate when people do that too but I think it will be fun to reveal it that way. Only 5 1/2 more weeks to wait at most!

-----------------------

I'm knocking on wood as I type the third tidbit but I really believe that I am seeing L's personality changes that the allergist promised.

He's more focused (maybe I need to try his diet). He's happier. He's easier to motivate. He's more affectionate.

Don't get me wrong..he ended up in "bedroom time" (gotta love Love and Logic) once or twice yesterday, but the trips there are fewer and farther between, and he gets himself together significantly more quickly when he does get upset.

He did get sad on Saturday when B put protein muffins in the cart and was honest with L that they'd make him itchy. But my mom brought gluten-free, casein-free muffins and cookies over on Sunday,which helped.

My dad mentioned it yesterday morning, when L was at his house for an hour while I went to the gym.

Yesterday afternoon, I asked how he was feeling (due to the decreased energy) and he answered, "Doin' better." He went on to tell me he felt "mad" when he ate foods that made him itchy.

Amazing.

To think, a few short weeks ago I was literally grieving over this diagnosis.
-----------------------

Don't burn away your Tuesday...namaste!

Tuesday Tidbits: Updates on the allergies

I'm happy to report that L's allergy-induced diet is going really, really well.

Like I mentioned yesterday, I wasn't thinking and gave L a few bites of pork in barbecue sauce. Barbecue sauce=tomatoes. And evidently, tomatoes=red bumps on L's mouth and chest, itchiness, and crazy uncontrollable psychoticness energy. 48 hours later, he was back to normal, but it was very interesting.

Trader Joe's continues to be our haven. Not only are their prices awesome, but they have soy yogurt, gluten-free cookies, and healthy snacks that L loves: organic fruit, all-natural applesauce, fruit leathers, etc., etc. When he was first diagnosed with all of these allergies, people kept saying, "This is going to be such a healthy change for your whole family." Honestly...I didn't want to hear it at that point. All I could think of were the dollar signs and the things he couldn't eat. But loading our pantry and refrigerator up with things that I can give L, guilt-free, does make me realize that these allergies might just be a blessing in disguise.

I am convinced that he understands it, too. He didn't even ask for cake at the birthday party we attended over the weekend, and when I handed him his special cupcake, he smiled and said, "This one won't make me itchy!"

When we walked into Trader Joe's tonight, he grinned and said, "We can buy food here that won't make me itchy!"

And when we finished up, he looked in the treasure box that is always filled with treats. He saw the suckers (his favorite) and looked up at me, asking, "Will these make me itchy?" When I told him they might but that he could have a special treat at home, he shut the box and said, "Okay, let's go."

That's a miracle, I tell ya. (It helps that he was constantly scratching himself like a 3 foot drug addict before we changed his diet. Who could tolerate that??)

Don't get me wrong. He still gets a little sad when I tell him he can have a chocolate chip cookie and I hand him one of the less-than-delicious gluten-free ones, when he expects a Chips Ahoy. He told me the other day he hopes he can "get better" so that he can eat some of his favorite foods again.

But I feel like we can do this now. We've found bread he can eat. He eats so much healthier, and even if this diet doesn't fix his asthma like I hope, the diet has got to help strengthen his immune system.

Now if I could just get him to love vegetables...any vegetables...like he loves his gluten-free cupcakes:

Monday updates

I had my 30-week (Ahh! Thirty weeks) checkup today and things are right on track. I have gained about 25 pounds and my belly is measuring right where it should be, even though I am fully aware I look huge....

The doctor gave me almost all good news: the painful Braxton-Hicks contractions I've been having are not a big deal...in fact, they give me license to put my feet up and drink a big glass of water when I get them. Heck, if I would have known that, I would have told him about those a long time ago..perhaps even before I had them. An excuse to put my feet up? Yes, please!

He did tell me that because I went into preterm labor with L at 34 weeks, I'm at a greater risk to do the same this time. (They were able to stop the labor and I was put on modified bed rest then...here's hoping that I make it to at least 37 weeks without this little man attempting to make an early appearance.) Luckily, I am at the appointments-every-two-weeks phase (!!!) so he'll be keeping a close eye on us both.

My doctor also is not comfortable with me doing kickboxing or turbokick classes anymore due to balance issues at this point. He prefers I stay off the elliptical since I had some soreness after I used it last tme. But he made it up to me by promising I could do spin classes until the end of my pregnancy.

In addition, he said he'll do anything I want for my delivery, including not using forceps or a vacuum and waiting to cut the cord until it stops pulsing. I am beyond lucky to have him for my doctor. We joke around through every appointment and I can talk to him about everything from being scared about trying to give birth without an epidural, to rocking out my bikini this summer, and he's incredibly supportive about everything.

L joined me for my appointment today (he adores my doctor too). Having him there reminded me that I cannot wait to see my boys together. He's excited to meet his brother and loves to hear his heartbeat at the appointments. For now, this is as close as he can get:


In other L news, we had an incredible morning. We spent a long time at Trader Joe's, where they gave us a list of gluten-free foods and we became giddy with our options! L was actually belting out "Hey, Soul Sister" through the store, and I may or may not have joined him from time to time. We came home with taquitos, nitrate-free hot dogs, soy cheese, soy yogurt, dairy-free butter, gingersnaps, and much more. And it didn't cost us an arm and a leg! Although, I'd have paid just about anything to make him happy, and our meals today did just that. Want proof? Check him out after two delicious meals today:


We're back on the upswing in our house and it feels wonderful. Thanks for the support on my last post...your comments touched me and made me cry. I'm so blessed to have such amazing blog-friends.

I hope your Monday was as happy as mine!

How do you talk to an angel?

Answer: You call the emergency exchange line at the right time and get the most wonderful nurse ever.

After giving L his 3rd albuterol treatment of the day last night, B got a little nervous (yes, I am married to a worrier too...makes for an interesting marriage) and started questioning the amount of medication we are giving him. Poor L gets really tired after the treatments, so I started worrying too. I have always heard that albuterol gets kids wired, not the opposite.

So for the 2037th time this week, I called the emergency exchange line.

When you call the exchange, they tell you that if you don't hear from someone in an hour, to call back. Within minutes, my phone rang, and when the nurse identified herself, I felt a sense of peace. I just knew I'd like this lady. When she said she hoped I didn't have to wait too long, I was sure of it. No nurse has ever said that before.

(I admit that when she said she'd never heard of cough-variant asthma, it scared me a bit, but she quickly redeemed herself.)

I told her what was going on with L, and she gave me and him loads of sympathy. She also gave me something even more important...the support I've been needing. She reiterated what I've been trying to tell myself; that L just has asthma. It sucks, but he'll be okay, and these upper respiratory illnesses unfortunately come with the territory. We aren't freaks of nature, like I feel so often.

She made me feel so much better about the albuterol and explained that his tiredness is normal...he's fighting hard to breathe all day, and it's so normal for him to be exhausted. She also told me that his lack of appetite is very normal too.

On top of that, she gave me awesome suggestions, including Little Noses saline drops and a ball suctioner to suction his nose, along with tips on how to make it a game.

She suggested we keep the humidifier going, prop the head of his bed up, and give him honey to help with the cough.

She explained that it's not a good idea to give him food to eat 30 minutes before or after his breathing treatments, but it's okay that we are giving him popsicles afterwards as a reward, because as she put it, "that sweet boy deserves it."

She gave me specific instructions on what to do if his cough starts to sound croupy.

She said the fever he ran today was normal.

She said I can call back as needed, and I should call back if the nebulizer treatments every four hours aren't cutting it. She also told me that L's pediatrician was on call tonight, so if I needed to, I could call back with specific questions for him.

And then she said the best five words, that I so desperately needed to hear....
"You are a great mom."

I told her that she was the best nurse I've spoken to, that she made a difference in my life tonight, and when she said, giggling, that she was also the most beautiful nurse there at Children's Hospital, I agreed, telling her that I could tell that over the phone.

Now if I could only figure out a way to get Angel Eileen to agree to be our live-in nurse.

For free.

Hopefully 2010's posts will get less whiny as the year goes on....

I'll be honest. This year has not had a fabulous start.

Last night, we put Logan down to bed and he started coughing and didn't stop until...c'mon, say it with me....he puked. (Yes, we are very worried about what the acid is doing to his teeth. Because we need something else to worry about.)

I remarked to B that Lo didn't cough at all the night before, when he slept in our bed. We moved him to our bed, and sure enough, he didn't cough, not once, for the rest of the night.

And now B and I are pretty sure that in addition to the water damage in our basement and our shot roof, we have mold in L's window/wall that we'll have to fix before we can put our house on the market. Unfortunately, we are in the crappiest school in a crappy district and don't have a choice about moving before L goes to kindergarten. I realize that is three years away, but getting a house ready to sell with all the problems we have, putting it on the market, selling it, and finding a new place to live will easily take three years. Sigh.

Today, we went over to my mom's house to see my aunt and uncle and their three boys (3rd grade, 4th grade, and 8th grade) who L adores. Too bad in the span of 2 and 1/2 hours L coughed until he threw up three times. Granted, he has bronchitis, and running with his three favorite boys will do that to an asthmatic kid with bronchitis and the world's most sensitive gag reflex, but it doesn't make it any easier on me. Sigh.

I keep telling myself (quite often, out loud), that this is not life-threatening, or even all that dangerous. It could be worse. Easily. It could be worse. It could be worse. It could.

On top of all this nonsense, the stupid girl at the eye doctor (who I also posted about her bitchiness here and here ) chipped my glasses while trying to adjust them the other day. Sigh.

And the reaction that I blogged about last week didn't go away. That means that I can't wear my contacts. So I have to wear chipped Coke-bottle glasses. Sigh.

The girl offered to order me new lenses. BUT as the doctor discovered during my eye doctor appointment, my prescription has gotten significantly worse, to the point that even with my glasses I am thisclose to not being "street legal." Sigh.

I am due for another annual visit in February. So I told her just to wait till then, since I can't leave my glasses with her anyway, and since I will definitely want to pay the extra cash for the thinner lenses next time, but I want to wait to get the right (aka almost legally-blind) prescription, leaving me in my ugly glasses for an entire month. Sigh, sigh, sigh.

So yeah. 2010 has not been the best start of the year. And I keep hearing people say that how the year starts is pretty much how the rest of the year will go. Sigh.

I, for one, am choosing to believe the opposite. Hey, I'm pregnant. And we have a pulmonologist appointment in two weeks. I am going to be positive. Maybe that whole thing about "in like a lion, out like a lamb" works for things besides the weather, too.

Hey, it could happen.

Just when I thought nothing was scarier than asthma...

While I don't really want to relive the last 24 hours, I feel a need to vent. It's been a heck of a ride. So warning...long post ahead.

After I posted yesterday, L woke up, hotter than I've ever felt him. I took his temperature and it was 103.5. He told me he had to go potty, and after he did, he threw up several times. Panic City. I already had an appointment with the pediatrician for later that afternoon, but I called the nurses' line anyway. (I am pretty sure that when they see it's me calling they fight over who is not going to take it. I'm a bit of a frequent flyer on the nurses' line.)

I had given L Advil four hours before, so she instructed me to give him Tylenol and assured me that fevers under 105 aren't dangerous. Mmm-hmmm. That didn't make me feel any better. I gave him his medicine, and got in the bathtub with him. Poor guy was shivering and just miserable.

The rest of the day, he could hardly keep his eyes open and his temperature never got below 101 degrees. I encouraged fluids, but he was so out of it he could only take a sip or two before falling back asleep. He woke up about 30 minutes before our appointment and had spiked 103.7. He was almost unresponsive and quite limp. I gave him Advil, called the nurses' line again (told you) and finally decided to just bundle him up and take him to the doc a few minutes early.

By the time we got to the doctor, his temp was normal. He was diagnosed with bronchitis and given an antibiotic. Either the doctor or the nurse (at this point some of it is fuzzy) told me not to alternate Tylenol and Advil unless his temp was over 102. So after we got home and he was back to 101.5, I ignored my mommy instincts and waited. It took about 4 hours since I had given him the Advil until he hit 102.

He ate dinner fairly well and took his antibiotic, then fell asleep on me. The one positive of his illnesses is the snuggly baby that I get to enjoy.

Unfortunately, two hours later, he spiked 103.6 and vomited (this time all over me and the carpet) again. We gave him Tylenol, put him in the bathtub and again, he insisted I get in with him. As I shivered with him, I realized this was by far, the sickest he's ever been. Even B was starting to get worried at the lack of responsiveness from him, but I told him quite generously that only one of us was allowed to panic at a time. (He obliged.)

I called the emergency exchange, unsure of what to do. It had been six hours since he'd had Advil, but only two since he'd had Tylenol. By the time the nurse called back almost an hour later, L had eaten two popsicles and his temp was down to (down to!) 102. She told me that the baths we'd been giving were actually wrong, as they caused him to shiver and his temp to go back up. (Who knew? They seemed to be helping!) By this time, he was ready for more Advil.

At the same time, I was instant messaging my mom and my friend, who has a son who is prone to high (104+) fevers for days at a time. Thank GOD for moral support.

An hour later, he was down to 101, so I decided to try to get two hours of sleep before he was due for his Tylenol. He was sleeping on one end of the couch, and I curled up on the other end. Two uncomfortable hours later, my alarm went off and I felt L, expecting radiating heat, but was thrilled to find him at a cool 98 degrees!! I gave him Tylenol one more time to be safe and moved him to his bed.

I checked on him a few times over the next seven hours and he stayed cool. This morning, he's back to his sassy self with just a little whining thrown in. Me...I'm exhausted...so much so that I didn't argue his request for a breakfast of chicken nuggets. I see a day of Harry Potter, Dino Squad, Diego, and Fresh Beat Band in my immediate future.

And hopefully, a healthier 2010 around the corner.