April showers bring.... trips to the ER with Charlie.

That might not be entirely accurate.  I believe it was Mother's Day weekend last year.  There were storms brewing and Charlie was battling a cold.  When Charlie was just two weeks old, he got RSV.  Most likely because of that, anytime he even gets a simple cold, he ends up with labored breathing and requires breathing treatments.  Last year, Mother's Day weekend, was one of his first real challenges with the labored breathing.  It was getting close to night and I was getting worried so decided it was best to take him to the ER.

Of course, we were under a thunderstorm warming that turned into a tornado warning that turned into a tornado in the area of the hospital and the area around our home.  Charlie and I were safe in the ER - having been evacuated to the center of the hospital.  Wyatt and Daddy-o at home were "safe" in our cellar, though the experience was a rather traumatic one for both.

We didn't have power the rest of the night so we ended up at my parents' house to spend the night. 

So, in true Charlie fashion, we were under a thunderstorm warning and he had three breathing treatments yesterday.  The problem was - the breathing treatments didn't seem to be doing that much for him yesterday.  Labored breathing, retractions, small fever.... It was about 5:30 when I gave him a breathing treatment.  Around 6 he had this honking cough.... That wasn't anything I had heard before.  Even after the breathing treatments he was still really labored.  So I put a call in to my doctor. 

Charlie's breathing treatment before the ER

At the exact moment that "I think you should go to the ER" the wind picked up like mad and began HOWLING through the house...  It was a seen of motherly chaos as I struggled to hear the doctor through my cell phone in an open-windowed house, howling with wind, Charlie crying for me to turn on another Daniel Tiger, Wyatt realizing that I was worried - following me around asking/telling me how he was going to help me get everything ready for dinner (bless his beautiful heart), me realizing the sound machine was still also howling from naptime, my mouth still half numb from the dental work I had just a couple of hours earlier, all while tripping over toys and piles of laundry.

Life in a nutshell.  But life is good.

We headed to the ER.  Half numb mouth, Charlie peacefully watching Alvin and the Chipmunks in the back.  The nurse was actually the same nursing from my OB when I was pregnant with Wyatt and it was great to see her again.  Charlie was a bit of a challenge.  He has grown out of his hate for doctor's offices but he clearly didn't want anyone fiddling with him last night.  As soon as we sat down they tried to put oxygen in his nose.  Charlie hulked it immediately out of there.  They said they needed to tape it.  Um... yeah.  Tape.  That'll hold it...!  I tried to keep Charlie from yanking it out but sure enough... Charlie refused the oxygen.

Then they were trying to get his pulse ox - not on his finger.  Definitely not.  So they did it on his toe.  That wasn't all that pleasant for him either - how dare you touch my BIG TOE!  But they got a reading.  I believe it was 92...

They decided they wanted to do a chest x-ray, test for RSV and flu and go from there.  Chest x-ray.... How is THAT going to work.  Charlie turned beat red and SCREAMED anytime someone touched him.  All while I was trying to be the strongest momma I could and restrain him from smacking a nurse.  (Only kidding, Charlie is a gent.  He doesn't hit the ladies...)

I had the lovely task of holding Charlie while they did the x-ray.  He was very content on my lap until the put a board between the two of us.  The tech told me to hold his shoulders back.  That meant holding his shoulders, keep him in the plus sign, keep his head out of the way, keep yourself out of the way.  But amazingly, we got a great x-ray.  Both views, great. 

Charlie.  Is.  Strong.  This was very obvious to everyone who encountered him.  They also marveled at his size.  Charlie is a whopper at 36 pounds - just over two years.  And I. LOVE IT.  He is solid and strong and handsome and lean and I was actually finding humor in his size and strength while he fought everything the doctor and nurses threw his way.

X-ray - clear.  RSV and flu - negative.  Doctor was leaning towards viral bronchiolitis most likely from being susceptible after having RSV at such a young age.  There may also be some croup. 

Now, we are experts at breathing treatments at home.  Charlie doesn't fight them.  He loves to hold the inhaler piece and turn the machine on by himself.  He does this like a champ.  In the ER, Charlie fights like a champ against breathing treatments.  That was the longest treatment of my life. And Charlie's life.  And probably the nurse's life!  Hold his arms, hold his head, hold his legs - don't kick the nurse!  He screamed and was red and did not make it simple.  He was definitely exercising his lungs.  Big, strong Charlie!

After all the treatments and tests, Charlie settled into me with my phone watching YouTube videos.  He had exhausted himself.

As I sat there, I thought of a couple of friends with children who had really bad ear infections - to the point of rupture.  I remember Charlie poking his ears yesterday.  So, with hesitation, I asked the nurse if she could have the doctor look in his ears, since we were there.... 

Charlie was a perfect gentleman.  He sat there and didn't move a bit while the doctor examined both of ears and informed us that they looked great.

Whew........... Everything was winding down.

They wanted to give a steroid in the case of croup, to help the airway.  The doctor asked if I wanted to personally give it to him at the hospital or take it home.  I opted for taking it and giving it to him at home.

We said our goodbyes and made our way to the door - the nurse followed and then informed me "The steroids will likely keep him up and can even cause some behavioral problems, but it would be best to give them tonight anyway to go on and settle the airways.  It'll be better that way even if he IS awake all night."

..............................................Uh, excuse me...?

But like a good little momma, I gave Charlie the medicine as soon as we got to the car.  He fell asleep on the way home.  Relaxed for a little bit at home once we got there and then quickly drifted off to sleep a little past bedtime at 9.

I'm an essential oil momma.... and knowing what the nurse said, I decided to diffuse some good sleepy time oils in the room that night. 

Charlie slept all night.

This morning, Charlie's breathing seems to have calmed.  He coughed his little head off when he woke up, but he is being my sweet, darling little Charlie.  Watching me with excitement as I blow up two balloons for him.  Requesting episodes of Daniel Tiger over and over.

I'm very thankful for the ER doctor and nurse that we had.  It definitely eased my mind going into the evening and I was very confident in the care they gave us and the care that I could provide him at home.

The storm missed us yesterday.

"You're not a bad mom.... You're not a bad mom...."

Repeat after me.... "You are not a bad mom...."

I know I'm not a bad mom.  I think I'm pretty standard when it comes to the scale.  But for a few hours today I questioned myself, just a little...

The whole family is battling or recovering from a mean cold - and currently it's taking its toll on the hubs and myself.  We went for a little drive around lunch time to just get out of the house and on our way home from our drive, Charlie and Wyatt both fell asleep in the truck.  Since they only slept about 15-20 minutes, when we got home, I let Charlie play around for a little bit, have a snack and then I planned to put him down for a nap.

Charlie had different plans.  :)  Of course, 15-20 minutes of sleep is PLENTY for a little boy recovering from a cold.... In his mind.  Nonetheless, I put Charlie in bed and sat in his room like I always do, just giving a little company and waiting for him to fall asleep. 

**I've thought about leaving this portion of the story I'm about to tell out, but it's the truth and I know I'm not the only one this could happen to...**

Today, however, I decided it was time for momma to get a little catnap herself - maybe it'll help me recover from this cold...  So I laid down on Wyatt's bed and told Charlie I was going to take a nap, too.  I dozed off...

Ten minutes. Ten minutes is all.  That's all the time that passed.  But when I woke up, Charlie wasn't in his bed.  Sigh.......... Where is that little rascal....

He wasn't in the living room.  He wasn't in the bathroom.  He wasn't in my bedroom.  Then I heard him in the kitchen.... Probably just getting a snack.

I walked in to discover Charlie had pulled the kitchen table chair all the way across the kitchen and had climbed up and opened the medicine cabinet.........................

OHMYGOODNESS!!!!  CHARLES!

He had opened a bottle of chewable antacids and had chewed up but spit out three or four of them.  Then I noticed on the kitchen floor was an open bottle of allergy medicine.  Open.  Pills all over the floor.  Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

"Charlie, did you eat any of these?"  "Yes!"  "Charlie, how many did you eat?"  Charlie starts counting "One, two, three!"

Now.... Charlie answer yes to a lot of things... and he starts counting to a lot of things.... You can't always trust a two year old.... Obviously.

I cleaned up the mess.  Gave him a cup of milk, took him to the living room and turned on a show.  I sat and wondered what to do.... Surely he didn't eat that medicine.... it's hard and I'm sure tastes awful.... Maybe I'll just give him 30 minutes and see how he's doing......  Maybe...

I decided I'd go on and call Poison Control.  I explained the situation to a wonderful nurse, Rachel, and she explained that the allergy medicine he had isn't necessarily a dangerous medicine.  IF Charlie did ingest any of it, it would sort of amp him up - he might get a bit hyper or even irritable or start shaking.  Keep an eye on him and she's going to call and check on us in an hour and probably again later in the evening.

Thank the good Lord, Mr. Charlie is JUST fine.  He has been my normal wonderful little Charlie and I could not be more relieved.  I really have no idea what I would do if something ever happened to either of these boys.

Wonderful Rachel at Poison Control called to check about an hour or so later and then again a few hours after that.  She explained the time frame for any possible side effects would be about two and a half hours after ingesting so she is very certain that we are in the clear.

I called my mom in the midst of the waiting and we tried to decide if I needed to relocate my medicine cabinet....  It has all been cleaned out - old meds trashed - condensed and placed on the highest shelf in the cabinet.

"You're not a bad mom....."  If I hadn't dozed off..........  But me falling asleep isn't the reason Charlie was able to get in the medicine cabinet.  I could have just as easily been using the restroom.  We can't have our eyes on our children 110% of the time... But we can try to eliminate the dangers.  I really didn't imagine Charlie could get into the cabinet.  But clearly, I was wrong.  Also surprising, the allergy medicine he had gotten into had a "childproof" cap on it.  I've seen stories before showing children opening all sorts of "childproof" caps.... and Charlie clearly has this ability as well.  So, don't trust childproof caps, parents.... Put the stuff up HIGH! 

And in case anyone else gets in this pickle.... do not be afraid to call Poison Control.  I've called them twice now in my time as a parent and I have been completely pleased with my experience both times.  They are always so sweet and caring and definitely not judgmental at all.

I hated the experience this afternoon but the outcome was everything I could have hoped for.  I have my handsome, happy little Charlie being his normal sweet self.  And........ that ten minute nap seemed to help.  Either that or the adrenaline after discovering my little rascal in potential danger.... 

Tomorrow is a new day.  Hug your kids.  Hide your meds.  Even better than you think you need to hide them.

Poop....

I think at one point I told a friend, and maybe even mentioned here, that my life got exponentially dirtier after having my second child...

Right after I had Charlie, Wyatt got into this awful habit of sticking his hands in his diaper after he had done his dirty business... And that lead to awful discoveries of dirty business in a variety of places... 

I think the hand into the dirty business was a step in the direction of potty training for Wyatt.  I'm pretty certain he was just over two. 

Well, here I am almost two years later and I'm reliving the joys of that age through dear Mr. Charlie.

In the last two weeks I have dealt with an unordinary amount of poop in a wide variety of locations throughout this house....  Don't worry, I will spare you all the pictures. Though a few choice friends have been lucky enough to receive some of the snaps... ;)  Don't you feel special....

Charlie does things a little differently, though.  Charlie doesn't just stick his hands in his diapers, he just takes the diapers off completely.  The other morning I was in my bathroom getting ready when out of the corner of my eye I saw a bare-bummed Charlie streak out of my bedroom.  Sure enough, when I peaked into my closet where he had been playing, I made the horrendous discovery.  A pebble-poop filled, abandoned diaper - along with a few strays - right there in the middle of my closet. 

About a week before that, I saw Wyatt come out of the hallway and stop in his tracks and say, "No, Charlie..... Don't.... Charlie.... No...."  I came in to find Charlie standing half-naked on top of an empty coffee table with his little poop pebbles all over the stinkin' table!?!?  BOY. 

*Side note - I have never been more happy about a little lingering case of constipation that leads to pebbles of poop that are easily picked up instead of that nice healthy, smearing consistency we all enjoy.... *

**Another side note - I apologize for the somewhat graphic nature of this post.  I am trying to use the sweetest language I can to describe such a subject.  But, let's face it, you're the one who decided to read about a post called Poop on a blog called Poop and Hiccups...**

Closet, table, living room floor, bathtub... These are just a few of the locations where the poop bandit tends to strike.

So here's the thing... Does this mean Charlie is thinking about being potty-trained..!?  Wyatt was just over two years and potty trained like a dream... But Charlie isn't even two yet... And I definitely don't want to set both of us up to fail... But if he's telling me something, I don't want to miss the boat...

Any thoughts, dear Poop readers...? 

Poop and Doctors.

Patience is a virtue.

What does that even mean?...!

I know I say it several times in response to working on trying to raise these two boys and maintain my sanity while also trying to be somewhat involved in the community...  Be prepared, I have already decided to have an entire blog post dedicated to this concept of patience.  Another day.

Today we went to the doctor for Charlie's 18 month well-child check.  I intended on Wyatt staying home because I don't want to take a kid who doesn't need to be at the doctor to the doctor.  This wasn't an option today so the three of us loaded up and headed to town.  I expected a relatively simple visit - I was told no shots.  Though I thought there might be a finger prick for lead testing.

While in the dreaded toy area of the office (I'm a germaphobe.. I know this...) Wyatt asked me if there was a bathroom here.  Blast... I didn't make him go before we left home.  I told him yes, and if he could hold it for a bit, we would go while we waited for the doctor back in the room.  Not long after, it was obvious we didn't have that time to wait.

Real life interjection - I just had to go pull Charlie out of my toilet.... What is the obsession there...?  I should know better than trying to blog a little while the boys are still awake... Moving on.

We found the restroom and I picked Wyatt up so he could dangle himself into the toilet to pee.  "No, Mom! I've got to go poop!"  Sigh........ "Okay."

We returned to the dreaded toy area after we wrapped up the potty break.  Five minutes later we were still waiting and a familiar smell begin to fill the dreaded toy area.  Charlie pooped.  Two boys.  Two poops.  Naturally.  I found a spot to change Charles and we were set.

Shortly after, we were escorted to our room and met with the doctor.  This was a bit chaotic.  Both boys trying to climb onto the exam table, crinkling paper, rabbling loudly, arguing over who gets which tractor.  Charlie looks great - developmentally wonderful.  Throat looks beautiful - clear of strep throat.  Ears - red, infected.  Scoff.  Okay. 

Thinking we are nearly done, the doctor asks me if I have interest in the Hepatitis A vaccine.  He recommends it now - schools don't require it but that may be coming.  Now is the perfect time to vaccinate Charlie since we are six months before his next check-up and round of vaccines.  I asked if Wyatt had this because I didn't remember him having a shot at 18 months.  No, he hadn't, but he could be vaccinated at any time.  "Let's do it.  Both of them."

As soon as Wyatt heard he'd be having a shot - it hit the fan.  "I don't want to take a shot! I don't want to take a shot!  I don't want to take a shot!" 

:)  This was hysterical to me.  Any passerby must have thought I was forcing alcohol down my child's throat to get us through this appointment.

Boy did Wyatt get the short end of the stick.  He wasn't even supposed to come to the doctor today.  I told him they weren't going to do anything to him.  And bam.  Before we knew it, he was being held down, screaming from deep within him, with a needle stuck in his strong, worker-man leg.  He was beside himself.  The last time we got a shot (flu shot) he didn't even make a peep.  No tears.  Nothing.  He's much more aware of what's happening every day. 

Charlie made it through his shot with the same scenario.  Momma needed more arms to comfort her betrayed boys.  Wyatt walked down the hallway at the doctor's office, crying the whole way.  We grabbed our sucker "party favors" and out we went.  Smirks and giggles from far more experienced parents in the waiting room serenaded us as we walked out to this beautiful July day.

We headed out to drop off our recycling - which I AM LOVING doing, by the way!  Wyatt is so interested in it and it's really cut down on our trash and back porch clutter. 

Then we headed to the Y for Wyatt's swim lesson.  I had thought of cancelling since I wasn't sure what would happen at the doctor or how it would work out time wise but I'm glad we went.  Charlie and I went swimming also.  Wyatt has made so much progress and can swim pretty well with just his back float.  We are working on head in the water - he just is not a fan of that and his stubbornness that he comes by so honestly is very apparent as he explains to the teacher why he shouldn't have to stick his head in the water. 

Here we are - nearly six hours after our morning adventures began.  God was in my heart this morning - he kept me more patient that I normally would be with poop, shots and screaming children.  Patience is a virtue.


Additional note:
I have so many friends who have more serious struggles - medically, financially -  with their children.  Please do not read this blog and hear the complaints of a mom who really shouldn't be complaining.  I know it's easy to get caught up in the situations that aren't ideal and are somewhat challenging.  I get caught up.  I get dramatic.  I pity myself.  But I also try to find the time to check myself and realize how fortunate we are as a family.  My boys are healthy.  There isn't much that we have to go without.. I just use this blog as a way to share the times that I encounter with my boys and hope some can relate.  I know several others who could write a much more intense take on motherhood and life.  This is just mine.

Hard to Love

At Poop and Hiccups, a lot of time is spent telling stories about the kids and all of the crazy/beautiful times they get us into.  Today, I was making dinner listening to music and a song that I hadn't heard in a long time came on the radio.  I was instantly taken back and inspired to write a little something about my main squeeze. 

The butter to my bread.

The dill to my pickle.

The peanut butter to my jelly.

I'm writing this in the kitchen.  And I'm hungry.

Hard to Love by Lee Brice.  If you don't know this song, you can't continue reading until you stop, google it, listen to it. 

Just over five years ago, Seth and I were married.  Here we are in the same little ol' house Seth moved into 7-8 years ago.  We've added on and added two kids.

This man drives me nuts.  We ebb and flow.  We love each other more than I ever thought I could love someone but we also drive each other more nuts that I ever thought possible.  I think this is normal.  If it's not... don't tell me. 

I think we balance each other.  Pardon the language - but I'm a jackass.  I break out in song and dance randomly, I speak in random accents.  I'm a jackass.

Seth is a serious, hard-working man.  There isn't a day that goes by that Seth doesn't have a list of 20+ things that he is going to try to accomplish that day.  Don't get my wrong, I usually have a fairly impressive to-do list also.  Mine is just hindered by these two little men that moved in with Seth and I over the past few years.

During one of our "you drive me more nuts than anyone I know" moments of life, Seth had done something to scrunch my face into major frustration.  And then, he started singing.  ....

"I'm hard to love, hard to love."

I couldn't do anything but grin. 

This could not be more true. 

I'm not saying this song defines our entire marriage.  I'm sure, like everyone else, we would need an entire album for every different day of the week, month, year.

Going back even further, Seth and I met when we both just 15 at the county fair.  I had gone with a few friends to the teen dance.  I saw Seth.  Seth saw me.  I'm not sure which happened first but Seth, being the suave man that he thinks he is, approached me.  He got my phone number and we spent the summer having a relationship over the phone.  We were 15.... He called me every morning before 7am.  I'm thinking, who in the world is this kid... Up before 7 during the summer and talking about the work he's doing.  Freak.  :)  By the way, I have a feeling this is exactly how little Mr. Wyatt is going to turn out.  There are worse things. :)

Fast forward to the end of the summer and Seth broke my heart by deciding to date some other girl at the state fair.  Really, though, I was pretty upset by this.  I was really enjoying my chats with this guy.

Fast forward even further and we both started dating other people but we always stayed in touch.  He was one of the very few people I would call to just have a chat. 

This is my blog and I'm in charge, so I'm saying this.  Seth spent the next 8 years trying to get me back.  He was always trying to get me to go on a date or out with friends or to this dinner or that wedding.  I played a very good game of hard to get.

But there was always something.  At one point, when I was around 21, I remember having a good couch conversation with one of my dearest friends and I said, "I just feel like I could marry Seth.  I could just see myself ending up with him."

In February of 2008, he convinced me to go on a date.  He likes to say (which is somewhat accurate) that I was drinking a little wine with my mom and she convinced me to give this guy a shot. 

We went on a date.  And another.  And a good ol' country-cruising, go feed the cows date.

In April of 2008 we decided to make it official.  We were in a relationship.

In August of 2008, Seth proposed in the middle of the living room floor.  He bought a ring that day and it was burning a hole in his pocket.

In February of 2009, we were married.

Whirlwind....?  Yeah, you're telling me.

There is just something between us that neither of us can deny and I think it first showed up that summer when we were 15.  God knows what he's doing.  He kept us in each other's life just enough to be intrigued, but knew to keep us away from each other until we were ready to handle the rest of our lives.

We grew up.  Together and apart.

He is ridiculously hard to love sometimes.  And I know I'm the same way - hard to love.  But I love him and the things that he stands for.

Poop and Chupe

Well this is a fun little post...

Yesterday I was getting ready for an evening out when I discovered that Mr. Charlie had a nice little diaper explosion.  This hasn't happened in a long time.

There's nothing like having to stop getting yourself clean and pretty to go clean poop off of your child's back, legs and a pillow on your chair where the boy was sitting...

I believe the culprit was too much apple juice. 

Today I was cleaning up in the kitchen after lunch and Wyatt asked for one of his candies that we bought this morning.  He picked out peppermints... 

I gave him a peppermint and went back to cleaning.  Shortly after, I hear Wyatt crying in the dining room and he points to his mouth that he swallowed his candy.  At least he wasn't choking on it!

He really started crying and then started gagging and next thing I know he throws up a decent-sized portion of his lunch and a little half-sucked peppermint.

He cried and said "Maybe I'm not old enough for those..."  Little sweetheart.

I felt so sad for him.  I got him cleaned up and the floor cleaned up and amazingly enough sat down to eat my lunch...  I'm surprised at myself.  If you know me, you'll understand why.

Just a glance into a couple days of life around this house...

My "Office"

Once upon a time, I had an office.  I didn't treat the office well.  I didn't like the room.  It was green with a tractor wallpaper border and cluttered and musty.  I tried to make it mine but it never happened.

Then, we got pregnant with baby number two.  We emptied the office, cleaned, repainted, and now we have a gorgeous new room for Mr. Charlie.

But where did all the stuff go...?  I still had several responsibilities for seed and farm and the house and now the church...

 

Cleverly disguised in this little red cabinet in the middle of my dining room....

 

 

My "office".  Everything I do takes place inside this magical little cabinet.  I shouldn't call it magical.  It's the bane of my existence. 

 

I'm thankful to have a cute way to disguise my office in the middle of the dining room but I can't really get any work done unless the kids are napping.  It's like opening Pandora's box in the eyes of the boys when I try to do something if they're awake.  Suddenly I have four hands reaching into my space - hitting random keys, turning the printer off, clicking random buttons, stealing 3 feet of tape, opening the stapler, pulling envelopes out, shutting the doors on me, grabbing stamps, grabbing pens, murdering my productivity.

 

Dreaming of a beautiful home office to call my own.  At this point, I would settle for a small cubicle that most people complain about. 

 





Charlie: The Stats. And a study in durability.

Charlie's four month check-up was today. Drum roll please............

And in the red corner.... Weighing in at 23 pounds and 4 ounces... And measuring at 28 inches long.... Heavyweight champion of the four month olds.... Charlie "Steamroller" Tyre!!!

Don't worry friends, babies.... He is gentle as could be and happy as a clam. Harmless fella.

He does seem to be somewhat indestructible. He has already taken a couple of intense tumbles. When Charlie was just about a week old, big brother Wyatt decided to help me give Charlie a bath. I asked him to go get his stool but he must have thought Charlie's name was stool because when I came around the corner to get Charlie, I saw my tiny baby laying face down on the floor. That is a pretty scary feeling... Luckily he wasn't crying, acted normal all day and was scheduled to see the doctor the next day anyway. All is well.

Another nice little tumble happened when Charlie was about 3 months and he managed to do a complete flip off of a small bookshelf while he was strapped into his carseat. Don't ask me how... I was standing right next to him, holding on to the seat. Let's just say 2 year olds are crazy, and I'm not talking about Wyatt.....

Finally, this wasn't a tumble but an exercise in brotherly love and testing the durability of a four month old. I put Wyatt in the crib with Charlie and turned to get clothes out of his dresser. While away I heard Wyatt saying "ride Charlie, ride Charlie" and came back to find Wyatt straddling little, big Charlie. Wyatt!!

The doctor told me after the first incident that second children make you realize just how sturdy babies are really. Nonetheless, I don't like the durability tests we've already put Charlie through. Fortunately, he has passed with flying colors and, so far, remains unharmed.