Earlier this week, I was on a call at work. Preschool called my work number and cell. Hmmm. Could be ok, might not be. I called back, but went straight to voicemail. Weird.
When I met Dan to drive home he says, calmly, "So an incident happened at preschool today." He wisely waited to tell me so I wouldn't freak out.
Turns out that the preschool director was on the swing. Three nicely asked if she could swing, too (I KNOW. That in itself is a shock). Three climbed (jumped is more likely, knowing Three) onto the preschool teacher's lap. They lost balance, and fell backwards off the swing. It is unclear if they actually were swinging before they fell. Other than a little blood from the preschool teacher's nose, Three was fine. The preschool director, not so much. Not only did she hit the back of her head on the ground, the back of Three's head banged into her face upon impact. Lots of blood and the preschool teacher was a bit dazed confused and so they called an ambulance.
When Hoosier girl came to pick Three up (minutes later) the police car and ambulance were still there. She thinks to herself, "Hmmm ambulance and police car, Three must be involved somehow." I think Hoosier girl felt a little bad about that, but hey, she knows Three.
Turns out at minimum, the preschool director's nose is broken. And I'm sure there is a lump on the back of her head from the ground, if not a concussion. And she spent some time at the hospital/ER that evening.
Three is totally fine. Hoosier girl cleaned off the blood in a bath, which is above and beyond the call of duty. She was a bit shaken, but loves to tell the story.
Three says, matter of factly, "We were on da swing and then we fell and then we konked heads and I hurted myself. And there was blood and Teacher K hurted her nose and it was BROKEN!! And then the doctor truck came and the police car. And I cried. And Teacher K went to the hospital."
When we got home from work, the girls were out playing. We all had lots of hugs and shared some sangria and snacks with Hoosier girl. She deserved it.
School called to make sure Three was ok. We were all like, she's fine but how is Teacher K? The reply, "She's doing well, but has some new thoughts about swing safety." I'm sure she does.
This is the dilemma I have. I'd like to get the preschool teacher a get well gift. What says I'm sorry my kid accidentally broke your nose? Wine? Spa treatment? Fruit basket? Help a girl out here.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Reasons #987 and #988 why I love our puppy
She guards/cuddles Doodle while she sleeps.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Conversations with Three
Three: Mommy, you go to potty? In your bathroom?
Me: Yes, Three. When are you going to go potty in the bathroom?
Three: When I grow a pen*s.
Me: I'm not sure that's going to happen without substantial effort and assistance. Maybe we can try the potty sooner?
Three: Ok.
Me: Ok. (now yelling to Dan) I KNOW WHEN THREE IS FINALLY GOING TO BE POTTY TRAINED!
Dan: When?
Me: (with a straight face) When she grows a pen*s.
Dan: Well, I guess we have a definite time frame then.
Me: Really?
Dan: Yeah, like never.
****
The big girls are doing super summer math workbooks. They are due weekly, and somehow we end up doing the entire week's worth the night before they are due. Again. Dan is out for a run with the dog, and I'm bribing Three to give us a moment of quite with a leftover Re*ce's peanut butter egg from Easter-- one of the big ones. My favorite candy on earth. I was desperate.
I tell her to eat it slowly and that the big kids will be done in a few minutes.
Me: Moo, you add up the sums in the bubbles. Color anything that has 7 as a total purp.....
Three: (muffled) muffmeee!
I look over and she has stuffed the entire giant egg in her mouth at once. She is drooling chocolate spit and she looks like she has a tennis ball in her mouth. I quickly start to walk her into the kitchen, where there isn't a rug, sensing that perhaps this isn't going to end well.
Me: Spit it out, just spit it out.
Three tries to spit it out, but the peanut butter appears to be stuck to the roof of her mouth. Chocolate is being drooled on my socks. She gags once, and suddenly I'm covered in chocolate peanut butter vomit.
There is not a spot on her. Not even that spittle string that sometimes hangs off of your mouth after a good barf.
Three: (cheerfully) Well that was gross!
Me: (wiping vomit off my face) Yes, yes it was.
I strip in the kitchen and head off to the shower. Doodle and Moo are instructed to stop math and put on a show to watch with their sister until their Dad comes home. I've thrown the clothes in the washer and wiped up most of the puke. All that is left is the wrapper and a smear of chocolate barf on the floor.
Doodle: DON'T LET PRITZIE IN THE KITCHEN THERE IS CHOCOLATE BARF ON THE FLOOR AND SHE WILL GET SICK AND DIE!!!
Dan: What the?
Moo: (nonchalantly) Oh, Three barfed chocolate on Mom. She's taking a shower. It was gross.
Dan: (from outside the shower curtain) I was gone for 30 minutes and there was barf and what????
Me: Just give me 15 minutes. Please. I need to wash the barf out of my hair. Just 15 minutes. I will explain. And then we will never speak of it again.
Dan: (laughing) I wasn't gone that long......So just your average night, huh.....
Me: GET. OUT. BEFORE I HURT YOU.
Dan: I'm sorry.
Me: Yes, Three. When are you going to go potty in the bathroom?
Three: When I grow a pen*s.
Me: I'm not sure that's going to happen without substantial effort and assistance. Maybe we can try the potty sooner?
Three: Ok.
Me: Ok. (now yelling to Dan) I KNOW WHEN THREE IS FINALLY GOING TO BE POTTY TRAINED!
Dan: When?
Me: (with a straight face) When she grows a pen*s.
Dan: Well, I guess we have a definite time frame then.
Me: Really?
Dan: Yeah, like never.
****
The big girls are doing super summer math workbooks. They are due weekly, and somehow we end up doing the entire week's worth the night before they are due. Again. Dan is out for a run with the dog, and I'm bribing Three to give us a moment of quite with a leftover Re*ce's peanut butter egg from Easter-- one of the big ones. My favorite candy on earth. I was desperate.
I tell her to eat it slowly and that the big kids will be done in a few minutes.
Me: Moo, you add up the sums in the bubbles. Color anything that has 7 as a total purp.....
Three: (muffled) muffmeee!
I look over and she has stuffed the entire giant egg in her mouth at once. She is drooling chocolate spit and she looks like she has a tennis ball in her mouth. I quickly start to walk her into the kitchen, where there isn't a rug, sensing that perhaps this isn't going to end well.
Me: Spit it out, just spit it out.
Three tries to spit it out, but the peanut butter appears to be stuck to the roof of her mouth. Chocolate is being drooled on my socks. She gags once, and suddenly I'm covered in chocolate peanut butter vomit.
There is not a spot on her. Not even that spittle string that sometimes hangs off of your mouth after a good barf.
Three: (cheerfully) Well that was gross!
Me: (wiping vomit off my face) Yes, yes it was.
I strip in the kitchen and head off to the shower. Doodle and Moo are instructed to stop math and put on a show to watch with their sister until their Dad comes home. I've thrown the clothes in the washer and wiped up most of the puke. All that is left is the wrapper and a smear of chocolate barf on the floor.
Doodle: DON'T LET PRITZIE IN THE KITCHEN THERE IS CHOCOLATE BARF ON THE FLOOR AND SHE WILL GET SICK AND DIE!!!
Dan: What the?
Moo: (nonchalantly) Oh, Three barfed chocolate on Mom. She's taking a shower. It was gross.
Dan: (from outside the shower curtain) I was gone for 30 minutes and there was barf and what????
Me: Just give me 15 minutes. Please. I need to wash the barf out of my hair. Just 15 minutes. I will explain. And then we will never speak of it again.
Dan: (laughing) I wasn't gone that long......So just your average night, huh.....
Me: GET. OUT. BEFORE I HURT YOU.
Dan: I'm sorry.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Mommy's smile is broken-- a summer vacation with sun, sand, and a little facial paralysis
Friday was our last day of work before vacation. My jaw hurt and I took some ibuprofen. Didn't think anything of it, but it wasn't getting better. My tongue also felt like it had coating on it. I thought maybe my sinus infection was coming back. I left work a little early and we headed to the beach.
After dinner with friends on Saturday, we took a group picture. At first I thought it was the chardonnay, but I couldn't fully smile. We left soon after and as soon as we got in the car, I told Dan, "I think I have Bell's Palsy." Moo said, "Mom, your smile is broken." Half of my face was paralyzed.
We went straight to the ER. Although I was pretty sure I wasn't having a stroke, since I could move my limbs and think clearly, it was still scary. Of course my blood pressure was through the roof, too-- because I was panicked.
My cousin, who had survived a brain aneurysm in December, met us at the hospital. I'm glad she was there, but it didn't help my blood pressure. She entertained the girls, and took them back to where we were staying.
The nurses thought Dan and I were freaks. He's doing a bit of his own exam in triage, and the nurse kept asking me where I had heard of Bell's Palsy. When I explained that Dan was a doctor, my cousin a nurse, and my mother-in-law had it once, she calmed down a bit. I felt better when they didn't take blood or put in an IV. I figured if they didn't do any of those things, that they weren't too worried.
An ear exam, a head CT scan, some lower blood pressures, and four hours later (there was a boating accident ahead of us), we discovered I have Ramsay-Hunt Syndrome. Well, Dan did. The ER doc was like, "It's a Bell's Palsy, nothing serious," and when Dan mentioned Ramsay-Hunt, asked Dan if he wanted antibiotic drops for my ear (you med people will understand that means the er guy was a bit of a doofus).
Basically Ramsay-Hunt Syndrome means I have shingles in my ear, which has aggravated my facial nerve. I can't fully close my left eye, and half of my face doesn't move when I talk. Literally, I'm talking out of the side of my mouth. The left side of my face droops a bit. Since my eye doesn't close, I'm sleeping with an eye patch on. I sometimes dribble food or beverages out of the side of my mouth.
Let me tell you, it's been *super*. The pharmacist at the 24 hour pharmacy kept looking at Dan when we dropped off the scripts. They gave me meds to help with the shingles virus that they use to treat herpes and some steroids, and the eye patch. Her look said, "First of all, this woman is no prize, and I'm not sure what kinky games you're going to play with that eye patch."
I'm relieved that this is treatable, and that the paralysis will likely completely resolve (in several weeks). So far, the pain isn't too bad. I can't really pronounce my "fs" so swearing is quite amusing. I never really appreciated how much I used the F-word. Or tell the girls to "Freeze."
I'm used to being on display, what with having Three and all. We often get looks because we are a transracial family. Now, we get even more looks. I'm thinking of getting a t-shirt that says, "I know my face is paralyzed, please stare at my boobs instead."
I'm trying to have a good attitude about it, and not be too impatient for improvement. The running joke with my family is that you can't take my cousin and I anywhere without a head CT first.
I'm just relieved it isn't anything worse. And I even more sensitive to the experience of others who have an obvious disability. I'm not ready to share pictures yet, but I will post some later.
After dinner with friends on Saturday, we took a group picture. At first I thought it was the chardonnay, but I couldn't fully smile. We left soon after and as soon as we got in the car, I told Dan, "I think I have Bell's Palsy." Moo said, "Mom, your smile is broken." Half of my face was paralyzed.
We went straight to the ER. Although I was pretty sure I wasn't having a stroke, since I could move my limbs and think clearly, it was still scary. Of course my blood pressure was through the roof, too-- because I was panicked.
My cousin, who had survived a brain aneurysm in December, met us at the hospital. I'm glad she was there, but it didn't help my blood pressure. She entertained the girls, and took them back to where we were staying.
The nurses thought Dan and I were freaks. He's doing a bit of his own exam in triage, and the nurse kept asking me where I had heard of Bell's Palsy. When I explained that Dan was a doctor, my cousin a nurse, and my mother-in-law had it once, she calmed down a bit. I felt better when they didn't take blood or put in an IV. I figured if they didn't do any of those things, that they weren't too worried.
An ear exam, a head CT scan, some lower blood pressures, and four hours later (there was a boating accident ahead of us), we discovered I have Ramsay-Hunt Syndrome. Well, Dan did. The ER doc was like, "It's a Bell's Palsy, nothing serious," and when Dan mentioned Ramsay-Hunt, asked Dan if he wanted antibiotic drops for my ear (you med people will understand that means the er guy was a bit of a doofus).
Basically Ramsay-Hunt Syndrome means I have shingles in my ear, which has aggravated my facial nerve. I can't fully close my left eye, and half of my face doesn't move when I talk. Literally, I'm talking out of the side of my mouth. The left side of my face droops a bit. Since my eye doesn't close, I'm sleeping with an eye patch on. I sometimes dribble food or beverages out of the side of my mouth.
Let me tell you, it's been *super*. The pharmacist at the 24 hour pharmacy kept looking at Dan when we dropped off the scripts. They gave me meds to help with the shingles virus that they use to treat herpes and some steroids, and the eye patch. Her look said, "First of all, this woman is no prize, and I'm not sure what kinky games you're going to play with that eye patch."
I'm relieved that this is treatable, and that the paralysis will likely completely resolve (in several weeks). So far, the pain isn't too bad. I can't really pronounce my "fs" so swearing is quite amusing. I never really appreciated how much I used the F-word. Or tell the girls to "Freeze."
I'm used to being on display, what with having Three and all. We often get looks because we are a transracial family. Now, we get even more looks. I'm thinking of getting a t-shirt that says, "I know my face is paralyzed, please stare at my boobs instead."
I'm trying to have a good attitude about it, and not be too impatient for improvement. The running joke with my family is that you can't take my cousin and I anywhere without a head CT first.
I'm just relieved it isn't anything worse. And I even more sensitive to the experience of others who have an obvious disability. I'm not ready to share pictures yet, but I will post some later.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Did I make myself clear?
At the allergist yesterday:
Three: "What's your name?"
Dr: "Kelly! What's your name?"
Three: "Diva. DEE. VA."
It was as if she were speaking slowly and loudly to alert the stupid people to her true identity.
Three: "What's your name?"
Dr: "Kelly! What's your name?"
Three: "Diva. DEE. VA."
It was as if she were speaking slowly and loudly to alert the stupid people to her true identity.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Recommendations from our dog whisperer
We met for our dog consult today, including a home visit. Our Dog Whisperer (DW) recommended that we start with a puppy and work to socialize it with lots of kids/activity. She said it would be much more work in the short run, but we would have a much better chance of ending up with a great dog. With a puppy, we would have a much greater chance of shaping its environment so that it would be comfortable with our family and our busy lifestyle and home. Also important, according to the DW, was that even if the dog grew to be large, the girls wouldn't develop fear as it would obviously start out small and gradually get bigger.
While the DW didn't say we shouldn't adopt from a shelter, she recommended a breeder or rescue so we would know what the dog's history was-- foster shelters would be ok, provided that the puppy spent 8 weeks with its mom, and then was fostered. Apparently sheltering is very stressful to puppies and can change their behavior in the long run. Puppies that traveled in planes to get to us were strictly prohibited--because of the stress on the puppy and because we would not be able to pick the puppy-it would be chosen for us.
One interesting thing the DW mentioned was that if we wanted to try to find shelters with puppies, we should seek out shelters in rural areas. In urban areas, she said, since there is a much higher percentage of spaying/neutering, the animals in shelters are more likely to have been bred from street dogs or dogs raised for fighting (i.e. pit bulls) and were not as well suited to be family pets (speaking VERY generally). Apparently, farm dogs or their offspring are a better bet, even if sheltered and there are more of them, because of less awareness/support for spaying and neutering in rural areas.
As for breeds, because we are on the go and Dan would like to run with a dog, she recommended the German Shorthaired Pointer and the English Springer Spaniel. Another option, depending on the dog itself, and its temperament would be a Whippet. Other breeds which would be great with the kids but less energetic (still recommended) were the Basset Hound and the Corgi. Also the Poodle, which we all vetoed immediately. She also mentioned the Golden Retrievers, but they were out because of the shedding. My dream of a Dachshund was dashed immediately, as we were told that doxies were responsible for more bites than any other breed in the US. Terriers were also vetoed as notoriously difficult to train.
So we're on the lookout for puppies in these breeds. Starting over, but are MUCH more confident that we'll end up with a great new member of the family.
Unfortunately, the neighbor dogs weren't out today, so our DW didn't get a chance to meet them but it is clear that we're going to have to have a difficult conversation with our neighbors about socializing our new dog and theirs. We're committed to a greeting with our dog, a trainer and their dog (provided our neighbors will work with us on this). The DW seems to think that the relationship will be better starting out with a puppy from the get-go rather than a full grown dog. Thankfully, all of the dogs she suggested would be unable to jump the fence and would be more easy going with the kids than a shelter dog would likely be.
All in all, a great home visit and we are looking forward to next steps.
While the DW didn't say we shouldn't adopt from a shelter, she recommended a breeder or rescue so we would know what the dog's history was-- foster shelters would be ok, provided that the puppy spent 8 weeks with its mom, and then was fostered. Apparently sheltering is very stressful to puppies and can change their behavior in the long run. Puppies that traveled in planes to get to us were strictly prohibited--because of the stress on the puppy and because we would not be able to pick the puppy-it would be chosen for us.
One interesting thing the DW mentioned was that if we wanted to try to find shelters with puppies, we should seek out shelters in rural areas. In urban areas, she said, since there is a much higher percentage of spaying/neutering, the animals in shelters are more likely to have been bred from street dogs or dogs raised for fighting (i.e. pit bulls) and were not as well suited to be family pets (speaking VERY generally). Apparently, farm dogs or their offspring are a better bet, even if sheltered and there are more of them, because of less awareness/support for spaying and neutering in rural areas.
As for breeds, because we are on the go and Dan would like to run with a dog, she recommended the German Shorthaired Pointer and the English Springer Spaniel. Another option, depending on the dog itself, and its temperament would be a Whippet. Other breeds which would be great with the kids but less energetic (still recommended) were the Basset Hound and the Corgi. Also the Poodle, which we all vetoed immediately. She also mentioned the Golden Retrievers, but they were out because of the shedding. My dream of a Dachshund was dashed immediately, as we were told that doxies were responsible for more bites than any other breed in the US. Terriers were also vetoed as notoriously difficult to train.
So we're on the lookout for puppies in these breeds. Starting over, but are MUCH more confident that we'll end up with a great new member of the family.
Unfortunately, the neighbor dogs weren't out today, so our DW didn't get a chance to meet them but it is clear that we're going to have to have a difficult conversation with our neighbors about socializing our new dog and theirs. We're committed to a greeting with our dog, a trainer and their dog (provided our neighbors will work with us on this). The DW seems to think that the relationship will be better starting out with a puppy from the get-go rather than a full grown dog. Thankfully, all of the dogs she suggested would be unable to jump the fence and would be more easy going with the kids than a shelter dog would likely be.
All in all, a great home visit and we are looking forward to next steps.
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